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1 




































































































THE WHALE SHIP GLOBE, OP NANTUCKET. 

As she appeared off the Mulgrave Islands. 
February, 11th., 1824. 































THE 


LIFE 

OF 

SAMUEL COMSTOCK, 

THE TERRIBLE WHALEMAN. 

CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OP THE 

MUTINY, 

AND 

MASSACRE OF THE OFFICERS 

OF THE SHIP GLOBE, OF NANTUCKET; 

WITH HIS SUBSEQUENT ADVENTURES, AND HIS BEING 

SHOT AT THE IVXULGRAVE ISLANDS. 

ALSO, 

LIEUTENANT PERCIVAL’S VOYAGE IN SEARCH OF THE SURVIVORS. 



BY HIS BROTHER, WILLIAM COMSTOCK. 


BOSTON: 

JAMES FISHER, PUBLISHER, 

No. 71 COURT STREET. 

TURNER &, FISHER, NEW YORK, AND PHILADELPHIA. 


1840. 

















. 











I 




\THE LIFE OF 

SAMUEL COMSTOCK, 

THE TERRIBLE WHALEMAN. 


WITH AN ACCURATE ACCOUNT OF THE 

MUTINY, AND MASSACRE OF THE OFFICERS 


OF THE 

WIIALE SHIP GLOBE, OF NANTUCKET. 



« 

















ENTERED SfccotDfng to tt)e slct of (Foiiijvess, in'the year 1840, by 
Turner and Fisher, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the i 
Eastern District of Pennsylvania, 






- 






PREFACE. 


The author of this work fell in with William 
Lay, in Providence, several years ago. Having 
given the young man an invitation to his boarding* 
house, he was obliged by a visit from him in the 
evening. Mr. Lay signified that he was not well 
pleased with the edition of the Globe Narrative, 
which he was at that time selling. He said that 
neither he nor Hussey wrote a syllable of it; hut 
having laid the facts before a writer belonging to 
Nantucket, the whole had been put into its present 
shape, for the trifling consideration of fifty dollars 
—said writer being, in many ways, leagued with 
those who had suffered by the mutiny, and depen¬ 
dent upon them for his support. A gloss had there¬ 
fore been given to the “ plain unvarnished tale” of 
the youths, and many of the facts had been inge¬ 
niously twisted to fay in, and lay up with the strands 
of prejudice and partiality. lie therefore offered 
the author of this work, another fifty dollars to cor¬ 
rect the errors, and supply the defects of the writer, 
intending to get out a second edition as soon as he 
had disposed of the first. As the author left the 
country a few weeks after this conversation, he had 

B 



XIV. 


not an opportunity to carry the plan of Mr. Lay into 
effect; but hopes that in the following pages he 
has given the public a more faithful account of the 
mutiny than any that has yet met their view. 

Although, “ no place can murther sanctuarize,” 
yet the foulest deeds may be extenuated. It prob¬ 
ably adds to the interest of a tale of horror, to load 
the actors in its scenes, with every imaginary fail¬ 
ing which ingenuity can invent, and the historian 
usually considers a murderer a fair object for him 
to exercise his eloquence upon, a proper target for 
the sharpest arrows in his quiver; but while his 
just indignation is aroused by the depravity of his 
subject, let him entertain a little regard for poor 
human nature, and not serve up from the hurly- 
burly pot of his rancid imagination, such a dish of 
ill-sorted and contradictory vices, as shall make 
his species appear much baser than the devil ever 
intended them to be. When a reckless and in¬ 
trepid villain is brandished with cowardice, and a 
sagacious plotter is styled an ignoramus, the com¬ 
mon sense of the reader is liable to partake of the 
shock which the writer intends only for his sensi¬ 
bilities. The description of the chief mutineer in 
Lay & Hussey’s Narrative, is a mere effigy, and 
the account of him in the Criminal Calender, is a 
clumsy portrait of it. The following lines may be 
not inappropriately introduced here to show the 
view which those took of the affair, who were well 


XV. 


acquainted with the subject of these pages, pre¬ 
vious to his departure in the Globe. They were 
written by Captain Coffin, of Nantucket, a gentle¬ 
man engaged in the merchant service, (since de¬ 
ceased) and published in the Nantucket Inquirer, 
the sixth stanza excepted, which was suppressed 
by the editor:— 

THE YOUNG MUTINEER. 

His sun rose unclouded, and brightly it shone, 

In the pride of the morning; it promised a noon 
Of glory and gladness. It sunk to the flood, 

In blackness and blindness, and blasted by blood. 
Disowned and dishonored, its last gloomy glare, 

M as shed on the grave of the Young Mutineer. 

Tho’ beardless his cheek, yet his was a soul, 

That knew not a master, that brooked not control; 

Tho’ beardless his cheek, yet his was a hand 
Acquainted with daggers; a voice to command. 

An eye that ne’er wept, and a heart without fear, 

Were the pride and the boast of the Young Mutineer. 

He lies on the beach of a lone desert isle. 

His dirge the green waves are chaunting the while, 

As they in wild tumult fell over his head, 

And wash the high rock that marks the wet bed. 

Where lie, with a heart that never knew fear. 

The mangled remains of the Young Mutineer. 

He lie* on the beach, the cold waters beside. 

And dreadful and dark was the death that he died— 

No mother mourns o’er him; no fond fair one weeps, 

\\ here far from the land of his fathers he sleeps, 

But the stormy winds whistle,—the wild birds career, 
O’er the wet sandy grave of the Young Mutineer. 


XVI. 


He lies on the beaeh, by a comrade in guilt; 

His forehead was cloven, his best blood was spilt. 

The cries of his victims had risen to God, 

And their wailings were quenched in the murderer’s blood. 
He fell—none mourned their captain, none shed a tear. 

O’er the wet sandy grave of the Young Mutineer. 

He lies on the beach—with a heart-rending yeJI, 

Horrid and despairing, he sunk down to Helh, 

His glazed eyes in horror were turned up to Heaven, 

His last yell to the skies, in wild echo was given— 

In vain it ascended, no mercy was there, 

To cheer the dark dying of the Young Mutineer. 

He lies on the beach, where the weeds and the shells, 

Mark the bounds of the sea when in tumult it swells. 

They scooped him a grave* and there laid him at rest; 

And heaped the wet sand on his bare bloody breast, 

And they rolled a huge stone and planted it there, 

To mark the lone grave of the Young Mutineer. 

In years that are coming, the seamen shall tell 
Of murders and murdered, the murderer’s yell, 

The tale the lone watches of night shall beguile, 

As they sail near the shore of that desolate isle, 

And their beacon shall be as they thitherward steer* 

The dark rock on the grave of the Young Mutineer. 



THE 


LIFE OF SAMUEL COMSTOCK, 

THE TERRIBLE MUTINEER. 


Samuel Comstock was born at Nantucket, in 
the month of November, 1802. His genealogy, 
by the father’s side, may be traced back to the 
early settlement of Massachusetts. William and 
John Comstock were brothers, and emigrated from 
Wales in the reign of Charles II. Captain Sam¬ 
uel Comstock, resided in Smithfield, R. I. Tra¬ 
dition has furnished many romantic accounts of 
his skirmishes with the Indians. A cave in Smith- 
field, is, to this day, pointed out as the place of 
concealment in which he and his family were hid¬ 
den for several weeks, when pursued by the abo¬ 
riginal foes. The Captain’s son David settled in 
Smithfield, and was, for many years, Judge of the 
supreme court. Samuel Comstock, a son of the 
judge, was the grandfather of our hefo. He settled 
in Burrillville, about two miles from the village now 
called Slatersville. Being a man of great personal 
strength and activity, he hewed in the wilder¬ 
ness an extensive farm ; although he was the sole 
tenant of his wild domain for several years. An 
anecdote illustrative of his character, and the con¬ 
dition of the country at that time, is told with great 
gusto, by the descendants of the intrepid yeoman. 

B2 



18 


It was but a few months after he had built his 
isolated cabin, and while he was yet a very young 
man, that he set out with a small dog to visit some 
fox traps in an adjacent wood. The morning was 
fine; an inch of snow had fallen during the night, 
and, of course, the tell-tale tracks of the prowlers 
of the forest, were delicately imprinted on its vir¬ 
gin whiteness. The young woodsman had not 
travelled far, before he observed his dog whining 
mysteriously, as if he had discovered something 
quite out of his line. Upon examining the spot 
around which his dog was hovering, he was sur¬ 
prised to see, distinctly stamped upon the snow, the 
mark of a naked, human foot. Upon placing his 
own foot on the track, he was convinced that it had 
been made by a person of gigantic stature—but who 
the individual could be that thus did penance in 
the dreary wilderness, baffled conjecture. Young 
Comstock was acquainted with every person in 
the neighbourhood, and knew there was not one of 
them to whom that naked foot could belong. He 
must, therefore, be a stranger, and Comstock at 
once resolved to be better acquainted with him. 
The dog seemed impelled by equal curiosity, and 
faithfully followed the track. After pursuing it for 
about half a mile over logs and brambles, it sud¬ 
denly diverged into a thick wood. Here, the dog 
halted, and howling piteously, seemed disposed to 
follow up this business, which was growing rather 
intricate, no farther. His master, however, cut a 
small staff from the wood and plunged into the fo¬ 
rest, and the dog followed timidly at a short dis¬ 
tance. He walked briskly until the trees and under¬ 
wood became so thick, arching above him, that he 
was obliged to bend nearly double, while it was 








A DESPERATE STRUGGLE BETWEEN COMSTOCK AND THE NEGRO. 










































































































































































































































































































































21 


with the utmost difficulty that he could trace the 
object of his search. At length he completely lost 
the track, and, accidently looking up, saw an Her¬ 
culean negro standing on a stump at his side. 
Excepting a bloody sheep skin about his loins, the 
negro was entirely naked. In his right hand he 
held a hatchet, and his left was armed with a long 
knife. As soon as the eyes of the two men met r 
the negro drew back his hatchet and aimed a dead¬ 
ly blow at his pursuer. The young man sprang 
aside and escaped his death; at the same time 
giving his antagonist a rap across the temple with 
his stick that sent him sprawling to the earth. 
Comstock knew that if the negro regained his 
feet, the contest would be sanguinary. He there¬ 
fore sprang upon the prostrate negro, who en¬ 
deavoured to plunge the knife into the side of the 
former. The youth wrenched the weapon from 
him, and threw it away. A desperate struggle 
then commenced; but Comstock had the advan¬ 
tage, being uppermost, and the strength of his ad¬ 
versary at length became exhausted. He then 
tried to frighten his conqueror, by saying repeat¬ 
edly, “ More nigger in the wood !” and ended by 
begging Comstock not to kill him; who told him 
to be under no apprehensions as he was not dis¬ 
posed to do him any injury. The report of a gun 
was then heard. Comstock hallooed, and the 
signal was resumed. A hunter soon afterwards 
appeared. He assisted in tying the negro, who 
was conveyed to the house of an ad jacent slave¬ 
holder, in the belief that he would be contented 
with the society of black men; but he showed no 
fellow feeling for his coloured acquaintances, and 
seemed to resemble them in nothing but Ids com- 


22 


plexion, He was detected in an attempt to set 
the house on fire, when his master forthwith ship¬ 
ped him off to the South. His cabin was after¬ 
wards discovered, in the heart of the forest. Two 
large dogs and several mangled sheep were nearly 
all it contained. Inquiries were set on foot, hut 
no information respecting him, or from whence he 
came, could be obtained. 

On his mother’s side, the great grandfather of 
our hero was an Irish sea-captain by the name of 
Emmet, who, having nearly made his fortune by 
his vocation, embarked on a voyage which was 
intended to be his last—and so it was, for the ship 
was never heard of after she left port. As Captain 
Emmet had a large quantity of money with him, 
it is supposed that the crew revolted and took the 
ship. Captain Emmet’s son, Edward T., was a 
watchmaker by profession. He removed to Nan¬ 
tucket while a young man, and took to wife a sister 
of Paul Mitchel, a shipowner now residing on the 
Island. Mr. Emmet’s high literary attainments 
procured him some distinction at Nantucket, where 
ignorance and oil were, at that time, the staple 
commodities; but he was an eccentric wight, and 
shunned society with all his might and main. He 
was fond of solitary rambles by the sea shore, and 
was one of the most rapid pedestrians in the country, 
Nathan Comstock from Rhode Island at length 
went to Nantucket to teach the Quaker monthly 
meeting school. He was very young at the time ; 
but being of a studious turn, soon obtained the 
friendship of Mr. Emmet, who was fast posting 
to eternity on the bony wings of a pulmonary eon* 
sumption. The visits of the young student to the 
house of his aged friend were followed up with an 


23 


assiduity which would have been highly creditable 
to the literary enterprise of the guests, had not 
the bright black eyes of Mr. Emmet’s second 
daughter divided the honor. In due time, Nathan 
Comstock and Elizabeth Emmet, stood up in the 
Friends’ meeting-house, and pledged themselves to 
each other, for life, after the manner of their sect. 
The ill-fated being who forms the subject of these 
pages, was the first remarkable consequence of 
their union. 

Some biographers regret that the early history 
of their heroes is lost in obscurity. I trust I shall 
begin early enough, when I state that ere yet her 
first-born had become one of the sons of men, my 
hero’s mother expressed a belief that he would be 
a person of extraordinary energies, which belief, 
was accompanied by a singular presentiment that 
those energies, would be ill-directed. No less re¬ 
markable was the prognostic of his grand father, 
who came to Nantucket to visit his son, when his 
grand-child was about eighteen months old, and I 
was an infant of half a dozen sundayfc. Little 
Samuel was playing before the fire, and the old 
farmer sat in his arm-chair, apparently watching 
his movements. When our hero’s father entered 
the room,the old gentleman turned to him and said, 
“ I have just been sunk in a kind of reverie about 
that child. I don’t know why it should be so, but 
I feel a peculiar uneasiness with respect to his 
future destiny. As soon as he is old enough, he 
will form an acquaintance with the sea-faring men 
of the island, and then I suppose he will want to 
go to sea; and his ambition will not permit him to 
be satisfied with the monotony of a long voyage ; 
thus he may fall into bad habits, and, perhaps be 




guilty of some crime that will ruin him forever.” 
Discovering no legitimate cause for the old gentle¬ 
man’s uneasiness, our hero’s father made some 
common place answer, and thought no more of it 
until subsequent events stamped the prophecy with 
the seal of truth. 

Little Samuel soon began to exhibit such proofs 
of address and boldness as are seldom seen in one 
of his age. When three years old, he insisted on 
going to market alone to buy a beef steak. The 
market house was more than a mile distant, yet he 
transacted his business satisfactorily with the 
butcher, and returned in safety with his purchase. 
About the same time he expressed a wish to go to 
the south shore and see the breakers as they came 
tumbling in from the Atlantic. Several large boys 
undertook to guide him thither. After a walk of 
three miles across the common they reached the 
strand. Samuel was early missed by his mother, 
whose uneasiness became excessive when the din¬ 
ner hour arrived and he had not been seen or heard 
of. It was late in the afternoon when she saw 
from the front door, two large boys leading a third 
towards the house whose countenance nearly re¬ 
sembled that of her little son; hut it could not be 
he, as Samuel left home in a boy’s dress; but this 
little fellow was attired in petticoats. She was 
soon undeceived, however, for upon catching her 
eye, the little fellow bounded away from his com¬ 
panions and ran towards her. It was, indeed her 
lost son; but how in the name of wonder he be¬ 
came possessed of his new garb, was a question 
which imagination could not answer. The other 
boys, upon being questioned, said that they had 
taken their protegee to the south shore, where he 


25 


stood for some minutes gazing upon the glittering 
surges, until, no longer able to contain himself, he 
plunged head-foremost into the surf, laughing ex- 
ultingly as the retreating breakers bore him off, 
and the succeeding ones tossed his lignt form into 
the air, enshrined in mist and foam. This was 
w laying his hand upon the mane of ocean,” with a 
vengeance. The other boys barely succeeded in 
rescuing him from his perilous situation. They 
conveyed him to the nearest cottage, where a gen¬ 
tle matron stripped off his wet garments, and 
dressed the lion-hearted urchin in petticoats. 
About two years after this event, he went to the 
wharf, with a larger boy, for the purpose of catch¬ 
ing fish. The boy accidently lost his fishing line 
overboard. He jocosely told Samuel that if he 
would jump in and get it he might have it. Sam¬ 
uel instantly sprang from the pier into the water, 
which was deep enough to float a large ship. A 
man, who saw him take the fearless leap, sprang 
in after him, and, not without difficulty, succeeded 
in saving him. He often made long excursions, 
leaving home in the morning and not returning until 
night. I never knew whither he went; but once 
insisted so strongly on accompanying him, that he 
was obliged to sooth me with a promise, which was, 
that he would bring me home forty little kegs of 
mollasses, all bound with bright golden hoops. In 
short, his taste for romancing commenced at a very 
early age. He found falsehood a much more pli¬ 
able material than fact, which would not always 
bend to his purposes; but he was naturally too 
bold to spend much time in arranging ingenious 
excuses for his misconduct. When he and I were 
brought up for some misdemeanor, and his father 
c 


26 


questioned him severely, he would give vent to such 
a glaring and improbable falsehood, so foreign from 
the truth, and so unexpected to me, that, although 
in momentary expectation of punishment, I could 
not avoid bursting into laughter on the spot. One 
example may suffice—On one Sunday, Samuel, to¬ 
gether with myself,were summoned before his father 
to answer to a charge of laughing aloud, in meet¬ 
ing. Samuel instantly gave as a reason for our 
unseasonable mirth, that the presiding elder, who 
sat at the head of the meeting, and who was re¬ 
markable for his corpulency, got asleep and fell off 
his bench. This marvellous narration was not easily 
credited by his father, who expressed his astonish¬ 
ment, and said, he did not see how it was possible 
such an accident could have happened without his 
perceiving it. 

“Very strange that thee did not perceive it!” 
replied the young rogue, “ for when his hat fell off 
it made such a clatter among the benches, that 
several of the people stood up to see what was the 
matter.” 

His father replied that he would ask friend S-, 

who sat next to the accused elder, if such a cir¬ 
cumstance actually took place. The next day we 
were called up again,and his father informed Sam¬ 
uel that he had spoken to friend S-, who aver¬ 

red he never preceived any such occurrence. “No 
wonder—” readily replied Samuel, “for he was 
asleep too.” 

This sally saved us, for his father was obliged to 
turn away to conceal his risibility. 

When Samuel was about five years old, he went 
into a shop, attended by a girl of fourteen. He 
picked up a piece of painted paper from the floor, 



27 


and stood turning it in his hand, when the girl told 
him he might have it if he wanted it. He very 
soberly replied, as he laid it on the counter, that 
he should be very glad to have it, but did not think 
it right for little girls to give away what did not 
l elong to them. Poor Betty stared with surprise 
at the young monitor, and perhaps thought the re¬ 
buke might have come with more propriety from 
older lips. 

It is said the Indians ridicule our soldiers, by 
saying that they rush into danger like lions; but 
when wounded they behave like women—not hav¬ 
ing sufficient fortitude to endure pain. Samuel’s 
conduct always formed an exception to this one¬ 
sided heroism. While children, he, and I, had 
a dispute about a hammer. I had hold of the 
iron and he had grasped the handle, each pulling 
with all his might. He being the stronger, drew 
it from my hand ; but as I let go my hold suddenly, 
the claw flew up and split open his lip. A doctor 
was called, who sewed up the wound. During the 
whole operation not a muscle in Samuel’s face 
moved, to show that he was sensible of the pain. 

When six years of age, he was sent to a board¬ 
ing-school, at Nine Partners in Duchess County, 
state of New-York, kept by Mark Coffin, a quaker. 
He had not been long at the school, before Mr. 
Coffin had occasion to correct him ; for which pur¬ 
pose he cut a switch. When Samuel saw it, he 
said—‘‘Ah! friend Mark, it will be of no use; 
father has used up a whole poplar tree on me, al¬ 
ready ; but to no purpose.” He remained at this 
school more than a year, and when he returned to 
Nantucket, he was much grown, and considered 
himself quite too large to be under the government 
of his mother. His father being at that time in New 


28 


York city, making preparations to remove his family 
thither, Samuel was in a considerable degree his 
own master; and now the organ of destructiveness 
began to develope itself. He had found means to 
obtain a small hatchet, which he generally carried 
about his person. Its keen edge was first tried on 
the barn, which he lopped of all its excresences. 
The fences next suffered from his attacks—but he 
soon resolved upon an enterprise which he thought 
would be attended with more eclat. A large pop¬ 
lar tree which stood at one of the front corners of 
the house was marked out for destruction. He 
hacked industriously at its imposing trunk until it 
was nearly ready to fall. A swarm of boys were 
collected on the surrounding fences, and the neigh¬ 
bours flew to their windows, when Samuel, brand¬ 
ishing his little hatchet, proudly advanced to give 
the finishing blow. This was soon done, and the 
lofty poplar came thrashing, to the earth, demolish¬ 
ing fences and smashing windows in its descent. 

When our hero’s father arrived from New York, 
preparations were immediately made for removing 
the whole family to that city. 

Upon arriving at the metropolis, Samuel and I 
were sent to the monthly meeting school, then kept 
in Pearl street, and taught by Skipweth Cole. 
Friend Skipweth soon found that in Samuel, he had 
no common boy to deal with. The school room was 
in the second story, and, on one occasion, when our 
hero had been fastened in the room alone, for 
some misconduct, he jumped from one of the win¬ 
dows and made his escape. The adventure cost 
him a sprained ancle. A short time afterwards 
he was confined again in the same manner, when 
he stove a whole through the door with a pair of 
tongs, and a second time got off clear. 


29 


He soon became extensively acquainted with 
the boys of the city, and was the ringleader of 
every roguish adventure. There were at that time, 
sectional prejudices existing among the hoys and 
young men. The Down towners and the Corlears 
Hookers were two strong parties who maintained 
a continual warfare with each other. In his ninth 
year, Samuel headed a gang of down town boys, 
who made frequent incursions on their Corlears 
Hook neighbors. The scene of their strife was 
the Green Hills. Our hero made himself a large 
wooden shield, and a substitute for a coat of mail; 
then, stealing away from home in the evening, led 
his little band to the scene of conflict. He often 
returned late at night with ghastly wounds on his 
arms and legs, the multiplied scars of which he 
carried with him to his grave. 

About this time he was sent to Nine Partners’ 
boarding school. Becoming dissatisfied with the 
teachers, he set out in the dead of winter to return 
home, in company with a lad much older than him¬ 
self. The two boys reached Poughkeepsie with¬ 
out accident, when they fastened skates to their 
feet, and commenced descending the Hudson on 
the ice. They were overtaken early the next morn¬ 
ing by two men from the school, who had pursued 
them in a sleigh as soon as their escape had been 
perceived. They were carried back to the school, 
and refusing to acknowledge their error, were both 
sent home to New-York. 

Our hero was then sent to a boarding school at 
Cedar Swamp, on Long Island, kept by an old 
quaker preacher. Here he soon raised the stand¬ 
ard of rebellion, and showed fight in good earnest. 
The old man, his wife, son, and daughters, main- 


30 


tained a long personal contest with him, until he 
was overpowered by numbers, taken prisoner, and 
locked up in the smoke house. They thought he 
was now safely secured ; but on going to hold a 
parley with his prisoner, an hour afterwards, the 
preacher discovered a couple of boards were mis¬ 
sing from the back side of the smoke house, and 
his captive had taken leave with them. It was 
soon learned that he was fortifying a strong hold 
in the woods, from which he flattered himself he 
should not be easily dislodged ; but he was assailed 
in a manner quite unexpected, and in a very vul¬ 
nerable part. Two girls were sent out to him, 
whose gentle persuasions to return to the house 
were not to be easily resisted. He went home be¬ 
tween the two ambassadors, and was ever after¬ 
wards treated by the whole family with kindness 
and consideration. The consequence was, that he 
behaved well for the space of four weeks, when he 
was recalled to New York; and here it may be 
well to state, that he was never insensible to favors; 
of ingratitude he was wholly incapable. He yielded 
easily to persuasion ; obstinacy formed no part of 
his character; but, when injured, his resentment 
was implacable. 

Our hero’s strong bias for military pursuits, de¬ 
veloped itself on every occasion. The back yard 
was transformed into a camp ; trenches were dug 
and fortifications were thrown up, little companies 
of boys were paraded with mock guns and swords, 
cats and dogs were tried by court martial and shot, 
in all due form and order, with small brass and 
iron cannons. Our hero was quite an adept in the 
art of fencing, before he was twelve years old ; and 
pistols and daggers were carried in his bo&om by 
day, and deposited under his pillow by night. It 




31 


may be readily supposed that these tmquakerlike 
mancevres were not very agreeable to his father. 
He onee presented his warlike son with the ro¬ 
mance of Don Quixote, in the hope that the keen 
ridicule of Cervantes would throw a damper on his 
chivalrous ardour—but the effect was precisely the 
reverse. The high-toned bombast of the Cas¬ 
tilian knight was sacredly reverenced, while the 
moral sank like dregs from his sight. Our hero 
was sent to the best schools, and no expense spared 
to render him an accomplished scholar, his father 
intending him for college. He was not very remiss 
in his studies, although his whole soul was bent 
upon wild adventure, fame and glory. It would be 
tedious to enumerate all his scrapes, battles and 
contrivances. 

Amongst the quakers it is very common for an 
approved minister to ask liberty of the monthly 
meeting to pay a 64 religions visit” to the quaker 
families belonging to their jurisdiction. Richard 
Mott, a celebrated preacher, visited our family in 
course. After sitting in silence the usual time, he 
arose and made some common place remarks, but 
suddenly turning towards the spot where my 
brothers, Samuel and George were seated, he ex¬ 
pressed a strong concern for their future welfare. 
He said he felt an unusual degree of sympathy for 
them—he feared all was not right—he thought a 
speedy reformation was required—that they were 
in extreme danger—that an awful presentiment 
hung like a cloud upon his mind while he addressed 
them. He then declared that they were utter 
strangers to him. He had never before seen, or 
heard of them; but he felt confidant a terrible 
storm would one day burst on their heads, unless 


32 


an immediate change for the better took place in 
their courses. The boys were mere children at 
that time, and no one present could have enter¬ 
tained the least suspicion of the tragical events in 
which they were subsequently to be concerned in 
the Globe ; but often did Samuel’s mother remem¬ 
ber the singular prognostic of the preacher, when 
noting his violent and revengeful expressions. 

It is not to be supposed that a boy of ardent and 
adventurous spirit, residing in a sea-port town, and 
seeing much of sailors and shipping, should escape 
the sea mania so common to boys under such cir¬ 
cumstances. When our hero had reached his 
thirteenth year, he began to evince a disposition to 
see blue water, but doubting his father’s concurence 
in his wishes, he set out in company with an Irish¬ 
man whom he had before formed acquaintance 
with, at the digging of Harlaem Heights, to travel 
to Philadelphia, at which place, he imagined he 
should find an opportunity to ship as a green hand. 
Night came, and no Sam. made his appearance. 
His mother sat up for him the greater part of the 
night; but she might as well have been a bed, for 
the delinquent was posting to the sister city with 
all the despatch imaginable. Alarm sat upon every 
countenance when his place at the breakfast table 
was unappropriated on the following morning. 

At about noon, a French gentleman entered his 
father’s counting house, and prefacing his intelli¬ 
gence with the usual quantity of shrugs and grim¬ 
aces, said, a little boy bound to Philadelphia, on 
foot, had been detained by the landlord of a public 
house in Elizabeth town—said boy having at¬ 
tracted the notice of every one in the hotel by his 
good looks and intelligence. He said, that on being 


33 


questioned, the little fellow had declared that he 
was bound to Philadelphia, on business for his 
brother, who kept store in New York. This ap¬ 
pearing a very strange story, he had been put in 
duresse , and finding no way to escape, had finally 
confessed that he had left his parents without per¬ 
mission. The Frenchman had been deputed to 
call at his father’s store and ascertain the true 
state of the case. Thomas Freeborn, a quaker 
gentleman of New York, having some business in 
New Jersey, called at the hotel at Elizabethtown, 
and took up the runaway. He arrived at his 
father’s house in the evening of the next day, and 
being questioned as to the reason of his strange con¬ 
duct, declared his wish to go to sea. His father 
told him that if he preferred a sea-faring life, he 
should not thwart him in his choice of a profession, 
but represented to him the hardship’s and dangers 
incident to maritime adventures. Samuel persis¬ 
ted, and on the next day his father called on Hicks, 
Jenkins, &, Co., in order to get him a chance on 
board one of their Liverpool traders. The ship 
Edward, commanded by Josiah Macy, was lying 
at the wharf, and Samuel was desirious of going 
to sea in her. The owners were very much op¬ 
posed to his going to sea, and, but for the interven¬ 
tion of Captain Macy, would hardly have allowed 
him to embark in their vessel. 

We now see the little school boy doffing his 
quaker coat, and assuming the blue jacket, tar¬ 
paulin hat, and duck trousers, marching about the 
streets as proudly as a new made peer who has 
forgotten their ancestors. He was not slow to ex¬ 
hibit his new uniform at the quaker meeting in 
Pearl street, greatly to the annoyance of friend 


34 


Thomas Hawxhurst, manufacturer of buckskin 
breeches, and hand-shaker general—-Samuel Fal¬ 
coner, shoe maker, and chief mourner at all quaker 
funerals—friend Elijah Crane, door-keeper in the 
house ot the Lord, and occasional exhorter in the 
absence of more gifted preachers—John Merritt, 
famous for the rotundity of his paunch, and his 
hot zeal against all evil doers—and friend William 
Waring, whose sanctified voice was never raised 
louder than a boatswain’s whisper. In fact, our 
hero’s boisterous bearing in the front yard of the 
meeting house was somewhat at variance with the 
demure sanctity evinced by those around him, and 
he received a sour reprimand from one of the afore¬ 
mentioned personages, to which the reckless bov 
replied by bidding him administer a certain act of 
endearment to the rear of his person! At length 
the Edward sailed for Liverpool, and no doubt 
there were some who, in the height of their holy- 
zeal,wished our hero might find a tomb in the ocean 
before she returned; but it was not so decreed, 
and aftei an absence of four months, the young 
sailor made his appearance again in the city. In¬ 
stead of resuming the quaker habit, he now attired 
himself in a fashionable dress, which sealed his 
damnation in the eyes of the friends society. Thev 
turned up the whites of their eyes when they met 
him in the street, and buttoned their coats to the 
dim to keep out the contamination of his presence, 
while the little quaker lads nestled to the sides of 
their parents as if they had seen a wolf. It might 
have been better for some of the little sfae-quakers 
if they had done the same; for, unfortunately, he 
was but too successful with the amorous sex. His 
extravagance in money matters, now exhibited 


35 


itself to an alarming degree, and when destitute of 
pocket money, he always found an inexhaustable 
resource in several open casks of copper spikes, 
which stood in a loft of his father’s store. Some 
pipes of wine were also discovered to have leaked 
most unaccountably, as the casks were in good 
condition, and the floor perfectly dry. I accidently 
found means, however, to solve this riddle —for 
passing the store late one evening, I perceived 
several young men standing on the steps, while the 
doors were partly open. I entered, and saw our 
hero assiduously engaged over the bung hole of 
one of the casks with a tin thief. A large bottle 
stood on the floor, which he was endeavouring to 
fill. When he saw me, he pressed me into his ser¬ 
vice as lamp-holder. While endeavouring to move 
one of the casks, his hand was caught between 
two chimbs, which came together so forcibly as to 
leave little doubt on my mind that his hand was 
cut off. When I saw the blood gushing out, I 
called to the young men in front of the store for 
assistance ; and when our hero saw them approach¬ 
ing, he seized the bottle, and clapping it to his 
mouth, drank off its contents, declaring they should 
not take advantage of his situation to deprive him 
of his plunder. 

He became all at once a strict attender at the 
methodist meeting, where he got converted several 
times, in order to gain access to one of the frail 
sisterhood. The manner in which he would bawl 
Amen, and Hallelujah, on such occasions, was 
highly edifying. I do not know that he was par¬ 
ticularly susceptible of pure disinterested affection, 
hut he possessed a superabundance of something, 
which the fair sex seemed to consider a very agree- 


36 


able substitute. After being on shore several 
months, during which time he had frightened the 
neighbours out of their wits by jumping from the 
eaves of the house into the tops of the trees, which 
stood in front, running along the gutters of four 
story stores, and swimming broad rivers. He set 
sail in the ship Beaver, for Canton, by way of the 
Pacific Ocean. The Beaver was a ship of 500 
tons, owned by John Jacob Astor &, Sons, and 
commanded by Captain Cleveland. She left New 
York in June, 1817. The contest was at that time 
vigorously carried on between the Royalists and 
Patriots in South America. The Beaver had on 
board some supplies for the latter, and on being 
boarded on the coast of Chili by one of his most 
Christian Majesty’s men-of-war, was adjunged a 
lawful prize and taken into Talcuahana. The crew 
were immediately thrown into prison, where they 
lay about five months. Captain Cleveland suc¬ 
ceeded in recovering the ship, which in due time, 
was brought back to her owners. Our hero was 
highly indignant at the conduct of the Spaniards, 
and vented his rage upon them in such a manner, 
as to endanger his life at several different times. 
Being allowed occasionally to leave his prison and 
walk about the town, he took advantage of the 
privilege to insult the populace, and generally when 
he returned to his place of confinement, he came 
at full speed before a crowd of Spaniards and re¬ 
peated showers of stones. 

At length the whale ship George of Nantucket, 
touched at Taleuahana; and Nathaniel Bunker, 
chief mate of the Beaver, prevailed on our hero to 
return in the whaleman with him to the United 
States. Although very anxious to go to Lima with 


37 


Captain Cleveland, he yielded to the persuasions 
of the mate, and became one of the George’s crew. 
During the homeward passage, our hero conceived 
a violent antipathy to whaleships and their officers 
—an antipathy which never afterwards left him. 
The shocking ignorance and gross vulgarity of the 
George’s crew, was a theme on which he often 
dwelt with uncontrollable disgust. It may be a 
question how far an intelligent person is warranted 
in finding fault with the coarseness, or ignorance 
of humble laborers, who are honestly toiling in 
their avocations, and make no pretentions to any¬ 
thing higher. But, unfortunately, the Nantucket 
whalemen are as vain and boastful as they are un¬ 
lettered and stupid. The captain of a whaleship 
often inquires, (like the African prince) “ do they 
speak much of me in France ?” A Nantucketman 
in any part of the world, may be known by the 
surly importance and glum dignity of his manner. 
Instead of endeavouring to amuse or instruct those 
with whom he associates, he considers it his busi¬ 
ness to draw the attention of every one to him¬ 
self, and resents highly a want of peculiar respect 
and admiration for his own undeservings. After 
a crew has shipped on board a Nantucket whale¬ 
man, the first step taken by the officer, is, to dis¬ 
cover who arc natives of the island, and who are 
strangers. The honour of being a Roman citizen 
was not, in days of yore, so enviable a distinction, 
as it is on board one of these ships, to be a native 
of that sand bank, yclept Nantucket. An African 
is treated like a brute by the officers of their ships. 
Should these pages fall into the hands of any of 
my colored brethren, let me advise them to fly 
Nantucket as they would the Norway Maelstroom, 

D 


38 


To all who contemplate a whaleing voyage, I would 
say,—avoid, if possible, Nantucket and New Bed¬ 
ford 5 although the latter place is not so exception¬ 
able as the former. Newport, R. I, is the most 
auspicious port from which the young sailor can 
embark on a whaleing voyage. The owners there, 
are liberal, generous men—and if a change has 
not taken place within a few years, their ships are 
commanded by gentlemanly and intelligent men, 
the officers being like unto them. 

When our hero reached Nantucket, he was 
kindly received by his relatives in that town. 
Widow Eunice Mitchell, (a connection by marri¬ 
age) and her lovely daughters, Lydia and Mary, 
showed the little adventurer much kindness, and 
he always spoke of them in terms of high commen¬ 
dation. But he also called on his aunt Hannah 
Hosier. She, worthy woman, was married to a 
little man of remarkably sharp face, legs like a 
bantum cock, of small wit and big pretensions. 
His schemes for getting a living were as multifa¬ 
rious as the points of a sun dial; but at that time, 
was ostensibly, a dipper of tallow candles and soap¬ 
boiler. In religion, he is strictly orthodox, and 
withdrew from the quaker meeting on account of 
the “ blasphemous preachments of Thomas 
Weather aid,” a celebrated Hicksite of Washing¬ 
ton, where friend Spindleshanks is at present 
located. 

At Nantucket our hero first heard that his 
mother had died in his absence. The tidings were 
deeply affecting to him, as he was strongly attached 
to her. She died at the age of thirty five, and 
left a family of eight small children. Providence 
snatched Tier hence, ere the bitter cup was mingled, 


which her consort was doomed to quaff, a few years 
after her death. His grief for the loss of his mother, 
did not however, prevent his falling in love with a 
little red-cheeked Nantucket girl—and, indeed, it 
is almost impossible to avoid falling in love, in 
Nantucket. The girls are so plentiful, and so 
pretty, that if the hearts of the men did not pal¬ 
pitate at the sight of them, the very grindstones 
would turn around with ecstacy. But his young 
favourite soon fell blighted to the earth, The 
glow of her cheek gave way to the hectic flush, 
and his boyish admiration cither sunk with her to 
the grave, or was buried in the deep recesses of 
his heart forever. 

On his return to New York, being only fifteen 
years of age, he was sent to school to Goold Brown, 
a quaker. Some roguish boys once assaulted the 
school house, during school hours, throwing snow¬ 
balls against the doors and windows, and bawling 
at the top of their voices, in order to disturb the 
teacher in his duties. The master opened the 
door, and spoke to them, but they replied in inso¬ 
lent terms. Our hero, thereupon, started from his 
desk, and rushing out, gave battle to the saucy 
troop and put them all to flight, for which bellig¬ 
erent action, friend Goold considered himself much 
scandalized, believing that if the assailants hit him 
w'th a snow ball on one cheek, it was his duty to 
turn and receive a patch of mud on the other. 
Such are the principles of the quakers—but, un¬ 
fortunately, the anger which they are forbidden to 
express by outward actions, finding no vent, stag¬ 
nates in the heart, and, while they make professions 
of love and good will to their opponents, the ran¬ 
cour and intense malevolence of their feelings 


40 


poisons, every generous spring of human kindness. 
It is not theirs to unsheathe the sword or poise the 
lance,but they make use of their influence, and their 
false pretensions to respectability to ruin the repu¬ 
tation, standing, and hopes of those they hate—pur¬ 
suing their adversaries even beyond the grave, and 
blasting widows and orphans, “ in a quiet and sober 
manner*” Notwithstanding their smooth profes¬ 
sions, they are the most proud, aristocratic, selfish 
and spiteful people on the face of the earth. Let 
any one who doubts my assertion, read Sewell’s 
history of the rise and progress of quakerism, 
George Fox’s Journal, and other writings of the 
early quakers. He will there discover, notwith¬ 
standing these long-faced gentry made no person¬ 
al resistance to their persecutors, they exulted with 
the malice of arch-fiends when one of their enemies 
was removed by a violent death—describing the 
scene, the appearance of the mutilated body, with 
a precision and minuteness of detail that would 
have stimulated the appetite of Molach, as they 
lapped their tongues over this feast of revenge, 
which they boasted heaven had prepared for their 
special gratification! but enough of this revolting 
subject—my heart sickens while contemplating the 
depravity of some of the quakers! 

As there are honorable exceptions to this general 
character of the quakers, and as I would not con¬ 
found the good with the evil, I will mention the 
names of some few quakers in New York, as they 
readily occur to me, and whom I can confidently 
pronounce to be liberal and generous men. They 
are as follows :•*—Thomas Freeborn, Jeremiah 
Thompson, Charles Collins,William F. Mott, Rich- 
chard Field, Zeno Carpenter, Willet Hicks, Rich- 

ic 


41 


ard Wood, Benaiah Sawyer, Robert Haviland, 
John C. Redmond, Isaac Hatch, Walter Under¬ 
hill, James Nelson,-Thorn, Richard Mott, 

the younger; Robert Hicks, and Thomas Leggett; 
and there are many other really good men among 
them. 

Our hero now began to associate with some loose 
characters, though privately. There was a famous 
brothel kept in Lombardy Street, opposite Me¬ 
chanic Alley, by an old bawd named Jackson. On 
the sign, over the door, the words, “ James Jack- 
son, boarding and lodging,” would have led the 
passers by to suppose it was an honest house, were 
it not for a red faced pimp whose head was every 
now and then thrust out the door, and whose brandy 
nose served as a light house to guide distressed 
mariners to the arms of beauty. Here, our hero 
became entrapped, and, it is to be feared, got rid 
of some of his loose change. There can be no 
doubt that he also paid some visits to Corlears* 
Hook, as he was affectionately attached to that 
part of the town. The young quakers are gene¬ 
rally in the habit of going to Anthony Street for 
recreation, and probably they led him off on some 
of their excursions. Be this as it may, his late 
hours were a convincing proof that he considered 
his evenings at his own disposal. 

After remaining at home a considerable time, 
he expressed his wish to go to sea again. His 
father insisted that if he tried another voyage, it 
should be in a whale ship, as the whalemen are 
seldom in port, and little opportunity would be 
afforded for dissipation. Although strongly averse 
to whaleing, Samuel was not obstinate, and wrote 
to Captain Shubael Chase, who was then making 
preparations for a voyage to the Pacific. Captain 
m 



42 


Chase returned an answer that he should take com¬ 
mand of the new ship Foster, as soon as she ar¬ 
rived at Nantucket, and that he would give him a 
berth. Previous to setting out for Nantucket, our 
hero met with an accident which threatened to be 
serious. He was making some fire-works with 
powder when a spark accidentally fell into his 
magazine and the whole flashed in his face. For¬ 
tunately he was not blinded, but his hands, face, 
and neck were badly burned. He repaired imme¬ 
diately to Dr. John C. Cheeseman, who adminis¬ 
tered the necessary remedies. The doctor after¬ 
wards mentioned the unflinching fortitude with 
which he bore the operation, in admiring terms. 
Being about to go to Nantucket, his father told 
him he needed a new coat, and here our hero’s 
pliability was again manifested, inasmuch as he 
consented to assume the quaker garb. His appear¬ 
ance must have been rather novel, while flourish¬ 
ing with his skinned face and straight coat among 
the liberal girls of Newtown. 

All things being ready, the Foster sailed for the 
Pacific Ocean in the summer of 1819, Amongst 
the crew were two boys named John Lincoln and 
John Cotton, to whom our hero became much at¬ 
tached, both of them being rather superior to the 
generality of whaleman. Not liking the mate very 
well, he proposed to one of these youngsters to 
assist him in flogging the said dignitary, but he was 
not seconded, and gave up the project. He enter¬ 
tained a sincere regard for Captain Chase, who 
was a methodist, and bears the character of a 
good and liberal man. While on board the Foster, 
our hero was frequently observed walking the deck 
in a rain storm, without his jacket, and talking 
earnestly to himselft The subject of his cogita- 


43 


tions came to my knowledge after his return from 
sea. It seems that he had long dwelt on a roman¬ 
tic design of spending his life amongst the savages 
on one of the Pacific isles. He wished to be the 
only white naan on the island, and doubted not in 
a short time he should be able to get himself elected 
king, when he would make sea excursions with the 
natives* and capture any vessel which chanced to 
come in his way. Thus, he would be the terror of 
the South Seas, and acquire that immortality for 
which his soul so ardently burned. Accordingly, 
when the Foster touched at Easter Island, he en¬ 
deavoured to get Captain Chase’s consent to go on 
shore* but was not permitted. 

The Foster also paid a visit to Valparaisov Here 
our hero met with many adventures amongst his 
old friends, the Spaniards. A little to the right 
hand of the town are three hills, called the Fore 
Main and Mizen Top, where sailors resort for the 
purpose of carousing* and enjoying the company 
of certain Spanish girls, of whom Diana would not 
have been extravagantly proud. While toiling up 
the long hill called Main Top, he fell in with a girl 
not more than four feet high, tricked out in all her 
finery, and bearing in her hand a handsome guitar. 
This was no less a person than Chicochee, who 
was then? in the hey-dey of her glory ; but who has 
since fallen from her high estate, and is now known 
among the sailors by the blunt appellation of Jack 
o’Clubk The following conversation passed be¬ 
tween the dwarf and our hero:— 

Dwarf L Halloo, Jack! where are you going ? 

Sam . You don’t call yourself a woman* do you ? 

Dwarf\ Come to my house and see. 

Sam . If your house is built in proportion to the 
size of its tenant, I shall not be able to get into it. 


44 


/ Dwarf. Oh, yes, I see you, how ’tis, very well. 
You go up the hill to see Indian Queen. All the 
d—n Yankee go to Indian Queen. Come, John, go 
home with me. 

His curiosity being excited by the mention of the 
Indian Queen, our hero bade adieu to the indig¬ 
nant fairy, promising to call upon her when he re¬ 
turned, and began once more to ascend the hill. 
Chicochee called out to him, and with wild and 
violent gestures threatened revenge, at the same 
time drawing a short two edged knife from her 
bosom. On arriving at the summit of the hill, our 
hero made inquiries for the Indian Queen, and her 
habitation was pointed out to him. He entered the 
little straw built tenement. Every thing within 
betokened elegance without comfort, and neatness 
without convenience. On a little shelf were placed 
several handsome wine glasses, each of which had 
no foot; and a figured decanter whose neck was 
broken off. The slight chairs were aristocratic ; 
but seemed incapable of bearing the weight of a 
human being. Against the wall hung a picture of 
the Virgin Mary with one eye knocked out, and a 
highly ornamented looking-glass frame, in the cor¬ 
ner of which was one solitary piece of glass peep¬ 
ing forth, like the sun in eclipse. In the corner of 
the room, sat a rough looking negro with a piece 
of coarse cloth about his loins. He bowed stiffly 
as our hero entered; but said not a word. Sam¬ 
uel amused himself by examining the room ; and, 
in a few moments, the negro took out a bundle of 
small paper segars. He struck fire with his tinder 
works, (an apparatus which the South Americans 
are never without) and lighting one segar for him¬ 
self gravely handed another to his guest. Our hero 


45 


then inquired for the Indian Queen. The negro 
pointed slowly toward the mountains and muttered 
indistinctly. At length a girl entered, whose form 
at once struck our hero as being more light and 
graceful than that of any Spanish girl he had yet 
seen. There was more mildness in her full dark 
eyes, than is common to South American lasses. 
Her eye lashes were very long, and her complexion 
browner than is common in that climate. With 
ready address, she bade our hero to be seated, and 
he then pereeived by her treatment of the negro 
that he was her father. He commenced a con¬ 
versation with the old man, who said he had just 
arrived from Caraccas—that he was one of Boli¬ 
var’s soldier’s and had obtained permission to come 
to Valpariso and visit his daughter. When asked 
to describe Bolivar, he said the general was black 
like himself, had much hair on his face, and was 
very cruel to his enemies. Our hero continued 
chatting with the girl and her father until itgrew 
dark, when a soldier came, and thrusting his head 
in at the door, spoke to the Indian Queen, who 
told him she was engaged for the night, and he 
must go farther. He did not appear in the least 
offended on hearing this annunciation from his 
paramour; but smiled to our hero and passed on. 
The bells in the different shipping in the harbour 
had struck nine o’clock; the door was closed and 
all was silent without. Our hero suddenly heard 
a rustling, as if the wind was creeping along the 
side of the thatched house; but he observed the 
Indian Queen to erect her head and turn her eyes 
towards the door. The calm expression 'which 
they usuallly wore, was gone, and they blazed like 
two balls of fire. The door slowly opened, and 


46 


two black eyes lit with fury, flamed in the dark! 
passage way. The^ Indian Queen sprang upon her 
feet, and drawing a knife from her bosom, darted 
towards the intruder, who plunged at her antago-! 
nist with a drawn knife also. Our hero saw at a 
glance that the assailant was Chicochee the dwarf. 
The two females fought with the frenzied despe¬ 
ration of wild cats. He advanced to pluck the 
combatants asunder; but the negro laid his hand 
upon the youth’s arm, and signified that it was con-i 
trary to rule to interfere in such cases. Blood was 
soon drawn, and then the negro said the battle was 
lawfully decided, for that she who first drew blood 
was the victor, and the other must yield. The 
laws of honour, however, were little heeded by 
these two desperate women, who seemed resolved- 
that the contest should end fatally. With the as¬ 
sistance of our hero, the negro succeeded in part 
ing them; but an uproar ensued—the women 
scolded—the negro became loud, and the watch 
collected around the dwelling. The negro signi¬ 
fied to our hero that it was dangerous to remain 
there longer, as the soldiers without threatened to 
carry them to the Calibouse ; and then bursting a 
hole through the side of the house, he motioned 
feamuel to follow. The youth did so; but being un¬ 
acquainted with the ground, came near plunging 
down a high precipice, which was but two steps 
before him as he emerged into the open air. The 
soldiers had not enfiladed the narrow strip of 
ground, which lay on the side of the house, next 
the town, and which was, indeed, no more than 
the brow of a dangerous precipice. On this giddy 
height the two men stood, while the soldiers 
searched every part of the little cabin ; but find- 





DREADFUL CONFLICT BETWEEN CHICOCHEE AND THE INDIAN QUEEN. 


















































































































49 


ing no men, they contented themselves by lugging 
oft* the two women who fought and scratched, ^ 
yelled and scolded with all their might. As the 
good people of Valparaiso are accustomed to such 
serenades, no one threw up his sash to enquire in¬ 
to the business; and when their voices died away 
in the distance, our hero proposed crawling back 
into the house. The negro made no immediate 
answer ; but seemed to be deeply pondering on 
something, and cast several dark and meaning 
glances at the youth. Our hero at once suspected 
treachery, and placed his back against the side of 
the hut. The negro then slowly drew out a long 
knife and asked Samuel for his money. The negro’s 
back was towards the precipice, and he stood di¬ 
rectly in front of the youth. A moment was suffi¬ 
cient to decide what was the proper course to pur¬ 
sue. Our hero pretended to be searching his 
pockets for money, and then suddenly threw his 
whole weight against the negro’s breast who fell 
backwards and tumbled from the high steep, giving 
one loud yell as he went over, which echoed among 
the surrounding dells like the scream of a panther. 

A loud crash was heard as he struck the earth be¬ 
low, and all was silent. There being no room to 
doubt that the man was killed, our hero directed 
his steps towards the shore, being determined to 
swim oft’to the ship, before any stir was made about 
the dead negro. In descending the long and wind¬ 
ing hill, he found considerable difficulty in escap¬ 
ing the frequent precipices which he encountered 
in his path, added to which the grave watchmen; 
enveloped in their cloaks, stood at every corner so 
still and statue like that one might have mistaken 
them for posts. The cool penetration with which 

E 


00 


these dark looking fellows regarded him as he 
passed, convinced our hero that the least suspicious 
movement on his part would be the signal for his 
capture. He at length gained the market place, 
and as he passed the hill on which stands the Cali- 
bouse or prison, he judged by the bustle, that they 
were about thrusting another prisoner into that 
gloomy abode. When he arrived at the beach, he 
perceived that the little shantee called “Hit or 
Miss” was still open, and that some sailors were 
carousing there. He thought he would step in a 
moment, and see if there was any person whom he 
knew, in the building. The company proved to be 
part of the crew of an English brig which had ar¬ 
rived the day before, and who had got liberty to 
spend the night on shore. They looked rather 
coolly at the intruder; but as he always possessed 
an extraordinary faculty for making himself at 
home in all society, they soon became sociable 
with him ; and said if he would wait until daylight, 
they would take him off to his ship in their boat. 
Drinking loosens the tongue—it was so here ; and 
several of these seamen who had been smugglers 
and pirates, related their adventures, and exulted in 
the evil deeds which they had committed in former 
times. Our hero listened to these narrations with 
great interest, and began to feel that he had fal¬ 
len amongst kindred spirits. One of these men 
was John Oliver, of whom I shall have occasion 
to speak again. Oliver seemed to be highly in¬ 
terested in our hero, and, drawing him away from 
the rest of the group, made inquiries respecting his 
present condition and future prospects. Samuel 
related to him the adventure in which he had been 
engaged in that very night, at which Oliver pro- 


51 


posed that they should take a walk in the vicinity 
of the Calibouse, and try to discover what was to 
be the fate of the two girls. Our hero readily as¬ 
sented, and they set out together for the prison. 
The sentinels were probably slumbering at their 
posts, for the two spies had gained the centre of 
the prison yard before they were discovered. The 
alarm was then given, and Oliver took to his heels; 
but the other, not being very swift of foot, chose to 
abide the issue. Several soldiers rushed up, and 
seized him without asking any questions, and con¬ 
veyed him to the guard room. On entering, our 
hero saw a number of Spanish soldiers reclining 
on their blankets and mattresses, who just raised 
their heads as he came in, grunted, and once more 
composed themselves to sleep. The old lieutenant 
of the prison next came bustling in half dressed, 
and ran on for some time in a furious strain of 
gibberish which nobody seemed to understand ; but 
which all the soldiers laughed at, until, at length, 
the man of office laughed too. Next came the 
jailor, clinking his keys, and the lieutenant directed 
his conversation to him. The jailor also laughed 
at the frantic exclamations of his superior, and 
then the latter laughed. Thus did this singular 
being run on foaming and threatening, laughing, 
and frowning for a considerable time, lie sudden¬ 
ly stopped, and darted out of the house. Then the 
jailor lifted up both hands, looked at the soldiers, 
shook his head, and beckoned to the prisoner to 
follow him. The turnkey opened a heavy door 
and entered a short passage at the end of which 
was another door of still greater solidity. Our 
hero followed into a square room without any floor, 
on the walls of which various grotesque figures 




52 


were etched, together with the names of men who 
had inhabited the dismal cell. Two females started 
up from their repose, as the jailor’s light flashed 
athwart their countenances, and our hero at once 
recognised the Indian Queen and Chickochee. 

“Am I to stay here ?” asked he in Spanish. 

“ No, no,” replied the jailor, laughing—and he 
pushed on to another door in the side of the wall. 

The Indian Queen arose and running up to the 
sailor, earnestly insisted that the prisoner should 
not be consigned to the inner prison. He answered 
her roughly, and she retreated back; but still per¬ 
sisted in her entreaties that our hero should be se¬ 
cured in the guard house, giving as a reason that 
he would be murdered if he was put in with the 
convicts. The jailor laughed at her fears, and 
unlocked two doors, similar to those which led to 
the first prison. The youth started back as he 
beheld about fifty of the most filthy wretches that 
he had ever seen stretched on the ground covered 
by tattered rugs, which were alive with vermin. 
A horrible stench at the same time assailed his 
nostrils, and piles of filth lay in different parts of 
the room. 

The prisoner looked at the jailor; he was not 
a powerful man, and seemed scarcely to observe 
the motions of the youth whom he was about con¬ 
signing to the loathsome den; the doors were all 
open, and the guards apparently asleep. His 
resolution was taken —he sprang suddenly by the 
turnkey, and bounding through the outer prison, 
made for the guardroom. The jailor set up a yell, 
a bustle was heard without, and before the youth 
had reached the first door, a dozen bayonets were 
pointed at his breast. All hope of escape beinj* 


53 


thus cut off, the prisoner was conveyed back to his 
apartment, and locked up with the wretched felons 
whose appearance so much disgusted him. The 
stir occasioned by his attempt to escape had awoke 
them all, and having sprang to their feet, they now 
pressed forward to gratify their curiosity by a close 
inspection of his person—all but one dark-look¬ 
ing man,who huddled in one corner, and completely 
enveloped by his tattered wrappers, might have 
been mistaken for a bundle of dirty rags; but for 
a low moan which occasionally issued from his 
heaving chest. Several of the most insignificant 
of the prisoners showed a disposition to insult the 
“ Englishman,” and, gathering around him, reiter¬ 
ated several times the whole vocabularly of obscene 
words which the Spanish language affords. A 
melancholy and reserved man, wrapped in a green 
poncho, who stood by himself in the other end of the 
room, muttered something to the blackguards, at 
which they sneaked off in silence. Our hero after¬ 
wards learned that this man was a murderer, and 
that those whose incivility he had repoved were 
petty thieves. The murderer presented our hero 
with a blanket, and he betook himself to sleep. 
An hour before daylight he was awakened by some 
person treading on his foot, and starting up, saw a 
man standing over him with a drawn knife raised 
with the evident intention of striking it to his heart. 
The solitary candle by which the apartment was 
lighted, was sinking in the socket, and the features 
of the assassin could not have been traced, had he 
remained long enough for their inspection. But 
the flight of the ruffian could avail him little. The 
youth was fairly awake, and saw him retreat to 
the corner in which the muffled man was lying 


54 


K when he first entered the room. He juged that it 
must be some concealed enemy of his, who had 
made that moaning sound, and pretended sickness 
to excuse his indifference to the animated scene 
which followed the youth’s attempt to escape ; but 
our hero did not close his eyes again that night, 
and in the morning took great pains to find out 
the incognito; but for the female prisoners, his 
curiosity would have remained unsatisfied, for the 
ruffian kept his face concealed until the jailor 
opened the doors to summon the prisoners to their 
daily labour. When the convicts were departing, 
he pushed forward to get a glimpse of his enemy’s 
face, at which the jailor exhibited great indigna¬ 
tion, and charged him with meditating an escape. 
He, therefore, drew back, and the felons passed out. 
Only one of the doors was now locked, which 
separated our hero from his female neighbours, 
and the Indian Queen commenced a tele a tele 
through a crack with the young American. 

Sam. Can you tell me who that large man is 
who first passed out ? 

Indian Queen. Have you forgot him so soon ? 

^XThat is my father. 

Sam. Your father ! 1 thought that negro whom 
I saw at your house was your father. 

Indian Queen. Yes, to be sure—well, has he 
altered so much that you don’t know him? 

Sam. I have not had a chance to see his face. 
But how came he here ? What crime has he com- 
i mitted ? 

Indian Queen. Senor Phillippi charged him 
with breaking into his house, in the night through 
the roof. 

Sam. (Laughing.) Oh ! yes, yes—I understand. 
But what did your father say about it? 


55 


Indian Queen. He told Senor Phillippi and the 
officers that two Yankees robbed him and threw 
him off the cliff, when he fell upon the roof of 
Senor Phillippi’s house, and broke through. 

Sam. Did they not believe him ? 

Indian Queen. No. He showed them his 
bruises; but they said he was a deserter from the 
army, and would not believe a word he said. 

Sam. But you believed him, I suppose? 

Indian Queen. Oh, no! he did not tell me the 
same. He told me that you pushed him over the 
precipice ; and said he would have your blood, if 
lie ever saw you again. That is the reason I was 
so afraid to let you go into the room where he was. 

Sam. I thank you much ; but did he tell you 
the reson I pushed him over the precipice ? 

Indian Queen. Oh, yes—I know very well. 

Sam. I should have thought he had been ashamed 
to tell you that he tried to rob me. 

Here Chichochee broke in with “ Oh, no, that 
is nothing. All men rob in this place. When rich 
folks rob, they don’t make any noise about it; but 
when poor folks rob they put them in the calibouse. 

Sam. I am sorry to hear that. Did the rich 
folks ever rob you ? 

Chichochee. Yes. I went into a rich man’s 
store to buy some cloth, and I did not know the 
price that I ought to pay. He charged me ten 
rials for it. Another girl that knew what the cloth 
was worth, as well as he did, went and bought the 
same quantity of him lor seven rials. Don’t you 
call that robbing me of three rials? 

Poor ignorant girl! she did not know that what 
is sanctioned by law cannot be unlawful, and that 
as the law is founded in right reason, what is law¬ 
ful cannot be unreasonable, and consequently she 


56 


was not charged an unreasonable price for her 
cloth. It is true our Pilgrim Fathers had some 
odd notions about extortion , but they were the 
vassals of a monarch. Ours are the laws of 
freemen and Christians. The most stupid negro 
slave on our plantations knows this is the only land 
of liberty and Christian forbearance. 

The youth was interrupted in his dialogue by 
the jailor who came to inform him that he was at 
liberty; so bidding adieu to the damsels, he went 
on his way rejoicing. 

During his long voyage in the Foster, our hero’s 
dislike to whaling, gathered so much strength that 
he was often heard to swear by all the saints of 
the calendar that he would never engage in the 
business again, and he would no doubt have kept 
his word, but for events which he could not foresee. 

The following anecdotes will show to what a 
pitch of intellectual refinement, the Nantucket 
whalemen have arrived. 

During the homeward passage, the officers and 
crew of the Foster had much leisure for amuse¬ 
ment. They read books, sung songs, danced and 
fiddled. One of the crew discovered a word in 
Tom Jones which he had never seen before, and 
disputed with our hero about its correctness. The 
former proposed referring to one of the mates who 
opportunely stood in the waist at the time the con¬ 
troversy was carried on. The other assented, when 
the sailor very respectfully approached the man of 
office, and pointing out the word, requested to be 
informed whether it was good English. 

“ That! what, that word !” responded his scrap- 
ship, throwing his arms a-kimbo, and not deigning 
to look at the interrogator, “ No—that’s not a book- 
tionary word—that’s a grammatical proposition.” 


57 


On another occasion, one of the officers very 
honestly desired to be informed whether England 
was on the continent, or “ stood alone by itself;” 
and on being answered by another officer that it 
was in the County of Great Britain, wanted to 
know how far it was from London. 

A boat-steerer being asked if he knew anything 
of Algebra, said, “ No; but they have it in all the 
apothecary shops in Nantucket.” 

For the benefit of civilized persons who may 
chance to become entrapped on board a Nantucket 
Whaleman, I here insert a short 

VOCABLARLY OF ENGLISH WORDS, 

With the corresponding terms as used by the 
Whalemen. 


ENGLISH. NANTUCKET. 

Oil 

Voyage.- Vi-ege. 

Cabin. Kcbbin. 

Dolt ----- - - - Stonehead. 

Captain ------- Keppin. 

Mate. Met. 

Large. Urge. 

Sharp. Shurp . 

Married - - - - - - - Merrid. 

Great. Grit. 

Clue-garnet. Clue-gannit. 

Chest. Chist. 

Attack. Attek . 


After an absence of 33 months, the Foster ar¬ 
rived at Edgarstown, where the crew commenced 
discharging their oil. This place is much im¬ 
proved of late years ; they have places of public 
worship; cannibalism has become almost extinct, 
and our hero walked the streets in open day with- 












58 


out being molested by the inhabitants. In short, 
hospitality to strangers is a characteristic trait of 
savages £\and whatever British travellers may say 
of our country, his Majesty’s naval officers cannot 
deny that they were treated with peculiar respect 
and attention, during the last war, by the liberal 
and unprejudiced islanders of Nantucket and 
Martha’s vineyard. It is said that the tender¬ 
hearted Cockburn was affected even to tears by the 
kind assiduities of those people, while he was afar 
from his dear native home, “ a stranger in a strange 
land.” ° b 

Having worn out all his clothes during the voy- 
age, our hero was obliged to remain at Edgars- 
town until the tailor had prepared him some. His 
coat was first finished, and I have heard some 
pesons laugh at the recollection of his appearance 
when he first arrived at Nantucket, where he was 
seen for several days dashing about the streets 
with a fine broad cloth coat, and patched canvass 
trowsers. After being kindly welcomed by his 
relatives on the island, and affording them infinite 
amusement by bis anecdotes, of which he always 
possessed an inexhaustible fund, he began to turn 
his attention to the fair sex. I have already said 
that Nantucket abounds in lovely and interesting 
girls. He could now approach them with increased 
confidence, because he had been around Cape 
Horn, and “struck a whale.” His gallantry was, 
however, peculiar to himself. His compliments 
were never of an ambiguous nature—he never 
assailed the sex at long shot distance—but pre¬ 
ferred close quarters, and always threw out his 
grapplings without ceremony when the prize suited 
his fancy. His dislike was as frankly expressed_ 


69 


to one young lady whom he thought rather pru¬ 
dish in her demeanor, he said he “should like to 
see her heart broiled on a gridiron!” It may readi¬ 
ly be supposed that such delicate insinuations 
re'ndered him quite a favorite with the Spartan 
dames of Nantucket. But being now nineteen 
years ol age, he thought it high time to fix upon 
some object for a companion through life. Accord¬ 
ingly, he pitched upon a respectable young lady, 
as different from himself as can well be imagined. 
She was a member of the Methodist society, gen¬ 
tle, unassuming, and pure in heart as the angel’s 
at the right hand of God. Her parents, who knew 
hut little of his wayward propensities, did not seem 
averse to the match. He visited their daughter, 
went to meeting with her, presented her with a 
prayer book and became all at once so partial to the 
methodists, that it was rumoured he intended to 
become a preacher of that denomination. He was 
in the habit of frequenting a certain tailor’s shop, 
he held long conversations on the subject of religion, 
i where he often met a pious old methodist, with 
whom the young hypocrite generally ending with, 
“ The people of God I do admire,” “ I hope my 
sins are washed away,” or some other cant phraze 
of that enthusiastic sect—so that his reputation for 
godliness kept pace amongst the elder inhabitants 
with his reputation for gallantry amongst the 
younger ones. In short, dissimulation, stratagem, 
and finesse were weapons which he wielded on 
every occasion. 

At length he took passage in a packet for New 
York, where he was anxiously expected by his 
father’s family. There was a pretty English girl 
. on board the sloop, who was also going to New 



60 


York, and our hero immediately formed an ac¬ 
quaintance with her, and before the vessel reached 
the city, he had made her a promise of marriage. 
On parting from her at the wharf, he obtained her 
address, and agreed to visit her frequently. I was 
much surprised at his altered appearance, when I 
came home on a Sunday evening and found him 
in the house. He had not grown much taller, if 
any; but his chest was broad and full, his limbs 
very large, his face and neck nearly as black as 
an indian’s, while there was nothing left in his eyes 
of the frank and open expressions that once char¬ 
acterised them. There was a deep, subtle, and 
mysterious expression about them, which I thought 
very repulsive. His sister noticed the change, and 
remarked to me that he had 44 a bad look.” His 
manner, however, was not like his appearance. 
There seemed to be no shyness or reserve, no 
feeling of conscious guilt in his soul. He was as 
cordial, bold, and reckless as ever; and seemed 
to feel himself perfectly at home. 
y/ Immediately on his arrival he declared his reso¬ 
lution to forsake the whaling business, and even 
the sea, forever. His father applauded his deter¬ 
mination, and expressed a wish that he would enter 
his store as a clerk, especially as I was then about 
leaving home, and George was too young to be of 
much advantage in a mercantile establishment. 
His father was then about moving his concern into 
a store which he had just purchased, and Samuel 
was sent to superintend the preparations at the 
new store. A brisk mulatto girl was employed in 
white-washing the counting room; Samuel told her 
to go down into the cellar and get a pitcher of 
water. She obeyed, and he immediately followed 


61 


her, shutting the cellar door after him They were 
below together, in the dark, sometime, when they 
returned, and the girl whispered to me that my 
brother was a real devil. 

Our hero now wrote to his sweetheart at Nan¬ 
tucket, and very cavalierly informed her that as he 
had given up the whaling business, it would be in¬ 
convenient for him to marry her, and she had bet¬ 
ter turn her attention elsewhere. Her father was 
undoubtedly indignant at this insult offered to his 
family ; but it does not appear that the young lady 
followed the example of Queen Dido. 

Samuel and J were about this time much in each 
other’s society, and I discovered that although he 
had ostensibly turned his attention to mercantile 
pursuits, his mind ran entirely upon battles, dark 
deeds, and perilous adventures of every description. 
He professed an enthusiastic admiration of our 
naval heroes, and incorporated a B. with his name 
out of respect for Captain Burroughs; but as his 
acquaintances were not generally aware of the 
addition to his cognomen, I have dropped it in this 
biography. He told me it had long been a favour¬ 
ite scheme of his, to sail in some vessel bound to 
the Pacific Ocean, and while there to kill the 
Captain and officers, and take possession of the 
ship. He would then take the vessel to some 
island inhabited by savages, and after murdering 
all his crew, join with the natives, teach them the 
art of war, and raise himself to the dignity of a 
king. All of this sounded to me like an idle dream. 
I supposed him wholly incapable of murder. 

The time soon arrived for me to go to Nan¬ 
tucket, as the ship in which I was about to em¬ 
bark for the Pacific Ocean, had reached that place. 

F 


62 


On the morning that the packet left New York, 
our hero came on board to bid me farewell. As 
I had never been to sea, he gave me some advice 
about my future conduct, and ended with, “ If you 
ever make a seaman, you will observe this—never 
get the lee side of a clue line, nor at the batter 
end of a jib-down haul!” these were the last words 
that I ever heard him speak. 

It appears that after I left home, he continued 
in his father’s store; but did not attend very close¬ 
ly to business. The girls occupied much of his 
attention, and the English damsel, to whom he was 
under marriage engagements, came in for her full 
share. He was frequently seen walking the streets 
with her, and he sometimes attended her to places 
of amusement. Her faith in her future spouse , 
received a slight shock on one occasion; when she 
met him in the evening parading the street by the 
side of a female of very doubtful reputation ; but 
as his virtuous mind was very much shocked at 
learning her character from the lips of his beloved 
she readily forgave the inadvertancy . She did 
not altogether relish his continual postponement of 
the marriage ceremony; but he assured her that 
as soon as he could remove the prejudices which 
his father had unfortunately concieved against the. 
union, he would lead her to the altar. 

Our hero soon grew tired of the inactive life he 
led, and turned his thoughts once more towards 
the ocean. A Patriot frigate lay at the wharf, and 
was nearly ready to sail. He contrived to ingra¬ 
tiate himself with her officers, and soon obtained 
the offer of a good situation on board of her. He 
gained his father’s consent to go in the ship, and 
his every wish seemed gratified. He applied him- 


63 


self assiduously to the study of naval tactics, and 
became a thorough master of every part of the 
science of navigation. Of medicine and surgery 
he had already a considerable knowledge; but a 
blight came upon his hopes, and his fondly cherished 
anticipations were blasted with a breath. Some 
miserable quaker bigots assailed his father, and 
remonstrated violently against his permitting his 
son to go on board a ship of war. He was at 
length persuaded to withhold his permission—to 
take back the promise which he had given; and 
our hero was informed that he would receive no 
aid—not even the necessary outfits, which, as an 
officer, he would need upon entering the Patriot 
navy. He was also given to understand that he 
must fix upon some other business, and pursue it 
steadily, on pain of his father’s displeasure. At 
that moment, the star of Samuel Comstock sunk 
in blackness forever ! A streak of blood had 
crossed his son; and Fate’s dark finger, as it 
pointed his future course, even trembled at the 
signal that itself had given. 

Samuel answered his father that he would go on v" 
another whaling voyage. Whaling, indeed ! who 
could not have seen with half an eye, that such 
whaling as he would engage in, would bring no 
profit to the owners ? When I was told in the 
Pacific by Captain George Washington Gardner, 
that he had sailed in the ship Globe, I was struck 
with amazement. 

His father seemed very well suited with his ^ 
choice of a profession, and told him, for his en¬ 
couragement, that if he would go a voyage to the 
Pacific Ocean, and conduct himself well, he would 
buy a ship, on his return home, and give him the 
command of her. 


64 


Our hero immediately set off, in a desperate 
state of mind, for Nantucket, and engaged a boat- 
steerer’s berth. He then returned to New York 
for his equipments, George then expressed a wish 
to accompany his brother in the Globe, and as he 
had long been pestering his father to go to sea, 
this was thought a favourable opportunity. 

In making his preparations for the voyage, Sam¬ 
uel laid in a much greater quantity of clothing 
than was required; purchased a case of surgical 
instruments, a medicine chest, and every variety 
of garden seeds. In addition to which, he packed 
up a goodly share of pistols, daggers, and swords 
—together with powder and ball. Before the 
Globe sailed, a circumstance took place, which 
might be considered ominous. While our hero 
and two other young men were at sea in a lighter, 
they sat together on the rail of the vessel. The 
captain cautioned them against the danger of their 
situation; but they heeded him not. Suddenly the 
vessel gave a lurch, and precipated all three of 
them into the sea. One of them was drowned, 
and the other two saved with great difficulty. 

Now that he had resumed the whaling business, 
our hero called on the young lady whom he had 
discharged so cavalierly, and told her the altei ac¬ 
tion in his prospects rendered it convenient for 
him to renew his acquaintance with her. Her 
father preached a little sound doctrine to him, but 
finally the young people were permitted to begin 
their courtship again at the place where it left 
off. In the mean time, about two dozen girls of 
New York, having perceived that Samuel had left 
the city, started up from their different roosts, like 
the followers of Rhoderick Dhu at the sound of 


65 


a whistle, and exclaimed against the duplicity of 
our hero, who, they affirmed had promised them 
marriage. But, if misery loves company, neither 
of the love-lorn damsels could have suffered much 
as there was a goodly number of them. In the 
mean time, a letter which our hero had received 
from the English girl, a short time before his de¬ 
parture, was found in an old trunk. For the ben¬ 
efit of those young ladies, whose style is not yet 
formed, I will insert a transcript of it: 


Luving 

Sir, they is no gurls but likes to be maid sure when they is 
corted as we hav been together. So I wos glad to git your leter 
and to here that your farther was begining to cum round sum, and 
not hold out so obstinate aginst your happiness. When 2 young 
peple love like us, they did not ought to be boked in their effec- 
tions. You think I had better be married in my white dress, but 
I am of very different opinion. I think that my new silk would 
be most genteelest. Howsomever I don’t care about that only do 
you think you can git any of your sisters to tend the wedding. 
You know it will look so much better to be on good terms. But I 
expect to see you nixt week, so yours my love till death. 

* * * * ******* 


Shortly after Samuel and George had taken 
their final departure from New York, a singular 
circumstance occurred. The family had been 
induced to leave the house in the city and retire 
to Greenwich, on account of the yellow fever, 
where they remained until late in the fall. Before 
moving back to town, two maids were sent to get 
the house ready for their reception. While the 
two girls were at work in a front chamber, a sea¬ 
bird flew in at an open window, and continued his 
coarse until he reached the partition at the back 
part of the room. When he wheeled, flew back to 


66 


the window and went off, leaving two distinct 
streaks of blood on the ceiling, extending the 
whole length of the room. When our here’s 
father mentioned the fact to a visitor, the latter 
replied, “ If thou wert inclined to superstition, thou 
would be likely to imagine that was some omen 
relating to thy two sons who are about going to 
sea in the ship Globe.” 

Every body knows that there is a natural incli¬ 
nation in all the nations of the world to believe in 
omens. Perhaps it proceeds from ignorance, or 
a fancy more vigorous than its crabbed companion, 
the judgement. Yet the most enlightened men on 
the face of the earth cannot deny that there is an 
unspeakable pleasure in those vagaries of the 
imagination which leads us from the confines of 
the natural world to the shadowy land of mystery, 
where we see what never did exist and hear sounds 
that cannot be uttered. Is it not because the im¬ 
mortal mind cannot be filled by the plain realities of 
life—nor stretch its ever-during pinions in the wide 
ether that is large enough to contain a material 
universe ? Are we not sensible that there are 
feelings in our souls which have never yet been 
fledged, which are cramped in our terrestial 
bodies, and cry, like General Burgoyne, for elbow 
room ? The pensive or sublime emotions raised 
by some peculiar kinds of music, lead the mind to 
the very gate of Paradise—but no farther ! It 
seems, as if a spirit spoke to us ; but we cannot 
understand his words—we taste but are not filled. 
Like Tantalus we inhale the steam of the viands, 
but cannot reach the substance. At the sound of 
the iEolian harp, an ocean of ideas rolls towards 
us; but breaks at our feet, and we step not in. 



67 


We travel back to a thousand years in one 
moment; but memory fails and we recognise 
nothing. The gates of a mighty city seem to be 
opened—we look in ; but all is dark, and we see 
neither pallace nor tower. The belief in the su¬ 
pernatural is the effect of our determination to 
give these indescribable sensations, form and sub¬ 
stance—to make that tangible which is shapeless 
and immaterial. 

Yet in searching for the marvellous, it is not 
well to neglect that portion of it which is actually 
within our reach, and, every day, falls under our 
observation, albeit, unheeded and unimproved. Do 
you ask for apparitions ? What more wonderful 
and mysterious apparitions can you desire than the 
creation itself presents? We are suddenly, and 
unexpectedly thrown into a world teeming with 
every thing that is beautiful and grand. What 
matters it whether the apparition comes to you, or 
you go to the apparition ? It is an apparition still. 
Suppose that with ripened faculties and cultivated 
mind, you have existed for some fifty years, alone, 
in some spot where the universe was not; beyond 
the attractton of any planet, sustained independent 
by your own gravity—You had never seen matter, 
save that of which your own person is composed. 
Suddenly, this world comes rolling up to your as¬ 
tonished eyes from the depths of ether, clad in the 
fur of her million clouds. Rocks, trees, rolling 
oceans, and thundering cataracts burst upon your 
view—the chorus of a myriad of singing birds 
breaks on your ears—the most gaudy flowers and 
delicate blossoms adorn the valley and the hill— 
the twisted vine upholds her lucious grapes—and 
all you see betokens luxury and grace. Would 


68 


not that be apparation enough for you? Would 
you desire something more marvellous still? Yet 
we are amongst all these wonders; we are sent to 
see them—but so gradually does the mind unfold 
itself, and so much interwoven with every thought 
of our minds are these amazing apparitions, that 
we tacitly declare they are a part of ourselves—of 
our own manufacture—and forget that one grain 
of sand is really as much of a wonder and a mira¬ 
cle as the “ thousand ghosts” of Osian when they 
“ shriek at once on the hallow wind.” 

To return to our hero—There was a respectable 
widow lady at Nantucket by the name of Plum, 
with whom he was fond of conversing. A short 
time before the Globe sailed, he paid her a visit, 
and told her that the evening before he was walk¬ 
ing up Main Street, and thinking on certain sub¬ 
jects, until his feelings so overcame him that he 
was obliged to sit down on the steps of a house; 
a woman whom he knew, passing that way, saw 
him, and desired to know what was the matter. 
He told her “ nothing much—a little faintness had 
come over him—that was all.” She advised him 
to go home, and finally assisted him in reaching 
his boarding house. At another time, Mrs. Plum 
asked him what he was going to do with his sur¬ 
gical instruments. He replied that he thought 
they might be needed. She asked him if he 
thought he could have the hardihood to cut off a 
man’s leg. “Yes,” replied he—“or his head 
either !” Mrs. Plum told him she had heard young 
men talk before; that they were always fond of 
extravagant speeches, and she supposed that he 
was like the rest of them. 

The Globe of Nantucket was at this time con¬ 
sidered a lucky ship, and the young seamen pressed 


69 


forward eagerly to get a chance in her. Her pre¬ 
ceding voyage had been remarkably successful. 
She was then commande'd by George W ashington 
Gardner, the most enterprising sea captain of the 
island. After an absence of not quite twenty 
months, she returned with nearly a full cargo of 
oil—whereas the term of a voyage is often three 
years, and seldom less than two and a half. A 
good share of the credit for this almost unpar¬ 
alleled success was due to Thomas Worth, her 
chief mate, whose ardour, intrepidity, and un¬ 
wearied energies were perhaps unequalled by any 
other officer engaged in whale fishery. Added to 
this, however, he was passionate, violent, and some 
times tyrannical. While chief mate of the Globe, 
he was known, several times, to rush in the steer¬ 
age where the hands were at dinner, with a naked 
lance in his hand, and threaten to nail the men to 
the deck, if they did not hasten up to their duty. 
He was better educated, and more of a gentleman 
than his fellow officers, and possessed some talent. 
Altogether, he was just the man to be pleased with 
our hero, who was as great a dare-devil as him¬ 
self. Captain Gardner having taken command of 
a new ship, Mr. Worth, the former mate, was re¬ 
quested to take charge of the Globe, and he did 
so. Captain Worth very soon became attached 
to Samuel Comstock, treated him with considera¬ 
tion, and placed the utmost confidence in his in¬ 
tegrity and his friendship. 

It being late in the season, the Globe took in 
her supplies at Edgarstovvn. While there, our 
hero was introduced to many new acquaintances, 
who were universally pleased with him, and 
thought him a young man of excellent principles 


70 


and correct deportment. The news of his subse¬ 
quent conduct fell upon the inhabitants of Edgar- 
town like a clap of thunder. He was the last 
person they would have suspected of such a deed. 
When the young bride of Captain Worth smiled 
at his sallies, little did she imagine that at that 
moment he was laying schemes to make her a 
widow ! But dark and bloody was the thoughts of 
his soul, and his smile was like a sunbeam playing 
on the tomb. 

^ The first mate of the Globe was William Bee¬ 
tle; the second mate was John Lumbard; the 
third mate, Nathaniel Fisher. Of the mates 
there is little to be told, excepting that Mr. Lum¬ 
bard bore the character of a generous and well- 
disposed young man, in whom there was no evil. 
Gilbert Smith and Samuel Comstock were boat- 
steerers. The hands before the mast were, Stephen 
Kidder, Peter C. Kidder, Columbus Worth, Row¬ 
land Jones, John Cleveland, Constant Lewis, Hol¬ 
den Henman, Jeremiah Ingham, Joseph I. Prass, 
Cyrus M. Hussey, Rowland Coffin, George Com¬ 
stock, and William Lay. 

v/ At len gth the supplies being all on board, and 
every thing prepared for the voyage, the Globe 
set sail for the Pacific ocean, on the 15th of De¬ 
cember, 1822; but an accident happened to some 
of her rigging, and she was forced to put back, 
come to an anchor, and repair the damage. This 
the superstitions would pronounce a decidedly bad 
omen. The Globe lay in port four days, when 
adieus, (some of which were doomed to be last 
farewells,) were hastily snatched, and on the 19th 
the ship put to sea again. 



71 


One whale was taken in the Atlantic Ocean, 
and again our hero’s denunciations of the whale- 
ing business broke forth. The crude oil always 
had a bad effect upon him, filling him with biles, 
and inflaming his flesh. He now lamented that he 
had been prevented from going out in the Patriot 
Frigate—declaring that his prospects were 
blighted, and the best part of his existence con¬ 
signed to waste on board a “ cursed blubber hun¬ 
ter.” Nevertheless, he performed his duty with 
as much alacrity as those who liked the business. 
Some of the green hands, not being accustomed 
to keeping awake in the night, were much disposed 
to sleep on deck in their watch. That was a 
weakness of which he was never guilty, and he 
considered it unpardonable in others. He there¬ 
fore ^ sprinkled the sleepers plentifully with cold 
water, which procured him many enemies amongst 
the crew. But Captain Worth was well pleased 
with his zeal. In short, our hero took every op¬ 
portunity to tyrannize over the men, under the 
mistaken idea that such conduct was spirited and 
officer-like—an error into which a great many 
simpletons run, when invested with “ a little brief 
authority.” You will often hear a Nantucket 
mother boast that her son “ who is met of a ship 
is a real spit-fire ,” meaning that he is a cruel ty¬ 
rant, which, on that island, is considered the very 
acme of human perfection. 

^ On the 5th of March, the Globe doubled Cape 
Horn, and stood to the northward. She made no 
stop on what is called the off shore ground, but 
made the rest of her way to the Sandwich Islands, 
Captain Worth intending to get on Tapan as 
quick as possible, that being the field on which 






72 


the Globe had reaped such a plentiful harvest on 
the preceding voyage. An old seaman on board 
the Globe was very much distressed by that excru- 
tiating disorder, the gravel—our hero’s knowledge 
of medicine and surgery was found useful "on this 
occasion, insomuch that he performed a radical 
cure, and the old man was restored to soundness 
and health. He also performed a daring opera¬ 
tion on himself. Iiis foot was much swollen, and 
he had been compelled to neglect his duty on ac¬ 
count of it. Determined to remove the cause of 
complaint, he split open the top of his foot with a 
lancet, to the very bone. A little boy with a hook, 
to which a string was attached, held open the 
flesh for him. Observing the lad to tremble when 
the sinews and veins were laid bare, he harshly 
reprimanded him for what he was pleased to call 
his cowardice . Having given the bone a good 
scraping and arranged the machinery of his foot 
to satisfaction, he sowed up the chasm—the wound 
healed and his lameness was removed. 

The Globe made the Sandwich Islands on the 
morning of May 1st, 1833. As the ship drew near 
the Island of Hawaii, in the afternoon, a large 
number of canoes came off to her. It fell calm, 
and the ship was not able to approach nearer than 
nine or ten miles from the shore, yet the natives 
flocked on board in great numbers, bringing pota¬ 
toes, yams, fish, and other products of the island. 
The Captain forbade the crew to have any inter¬ 
course with the women, who came on board; and 
accordingly, as was supposed, the females had all 
returned to the Island before the watch was set. 
But our hero had secretly smuggled one of the 
brown damsels into the steerage ; and on the next 


73 


morning, when the Captain was walking the deck, 
Lady Comstock made her appearance, emerging 
from the steerage, with an air of great dignity, 
dressed in a new Scotch bonnet, and rose blankets, 
which her gallant had presented her. The Cap¬ 
tain stared at this unexpected apparition; but per¬ 
ceiving under whose protection she was, made no 
remark. 

The Globe next went to Woahoo, the great ^ 
rendezvous for whalemen, where Nantucket Cap¬ 
tains meet and plan new r schemes of tyranny for 
their crews. The Globe lay but twenty hours at 
Woahoo, and then sailed for Japan, in company 
with the whaling ships Palladium and Pocha- 
hontas. Captain Worth cruised in the Japan seas 
a few months, during which he obtained five hun¬ 
dred and fifty barrels of oil, and then shaped his 
course again for Woahoo. During the cruise on 
Japan, the crew complained much of being put 
! on a short allowance of food. The fault was not, 
perhaps, altogether in the Captain ; for the owners 
of whale ships too frequently neglect to victual 
their ships properly, depending on the Captain to 
I stint his crew in proportion to his means, by which 
a few dollars are saved to the rich owners, while 
the poor hard labouring sailor famishes with hun- 
j ger. When any man complained to Captain 
Worth that he was suffering with hunger, he would 
tell him to eat iron hoops; and several times 
gagged the complainants’ mouths with pump-bolts. 

It does not appear that our hero discountenanced 
these arbitrary proceedings; but, on the contrary, 
did all he could to encourage them ; anticipating, 
no doubt, effects favourable to his schemes. Our 
hero’s father received a letter from him, written 

G 



74 


during the cruise on Tapan, in which were these 
ominous words, “You will soon see the bloody flag 
hoisted on board the Globe!” During his leisure 
hours, he devoted himself very assiduously to the 
study of abstruse science, never sleeping more than 
four hours out of the twenty four. 

When the Globe arrived at Woahoo, six of the 
/ dissatisfied hands deserted in the night. Two of 
them were caught and put in irons, in the fort; 
but they made out to unshackle themselves and 
escaped. 

While lying in harbour, our hero amused him¬ 
self by beating the negroes on board with his cut¬ 
lass, and by other acts of tyranny which made him 
very unpopular with the ship’s company; but 
raised him in the estimation of Captain Worth ! 
He was designated by the crews of the other ships 
as “the rascal in a red jacket.” Yet, while Cap¬ 
tain Worth imagined he was so loyal and zealous 
a champion, he was secretly engaged in stimula¬ 
ting revolt. He actually assisted the two men in 
the fort to make their escape. 

An East Indiaman was at this time lying in the 
harbour, and our hero was desirious of getting his 
discharge from the Globe, and going to sea in her. 
Captain Worth refused to discharge him, at which 
he was much incensed, and was heard threaten¬ 
ing, (in Jack Crown’s shantee) that if Captain 
Worth took him to sea again in the Globe, it 
would be at the peril of his life. 

He seemed to want some pretence for raising a 
mutiny; and now he imagined he had sufficient 
ground for doing so. The Captain had ever 
treated him kindly at sea; but he had now refused 
to grant his wishes, unreasonable as they doubt- 


75 


less were, and discharge him. With the mate he 
had sometimes quarrelled, and the mate had re¬ 
ported of him that he was cruel to the hogs on 
board—one of which he threw overboard for 
squealing. Therefore he felt justified in killing 
the mate. 

The third mate, Mr. Fisher had offended him 
in the following manner:—Once at sea, while in 
company with the ship Enterprise, the officers of 
the two vessels were amusing themselves by wrest¬ 
ling. Our hero challenged Mr. Fisher to the 
trial, who was much larger and stronger than his 
challenger. Fisher, with very little trouble, 
brought our hero to the ground. Thinking it a 
disgrace to be worsted in any thing, he became 
angry and struck Mr. Fisher, who then seized him 
and threw him several times on the deck, in a 
rough manner. Thereupon, our hero’s rage lost 
all bounds, and he swore that he would one day 
take a deep and signal revenge upon Fisher. The 
latter paid no attention to these threats at the time 
—but, in the opinion of Samuel Comstock, his life 
was justly forfeited. 

It being necessary to make up the complement 
of hands, before the ship put to sea again, Cap¬ 
tain Worth shipped the following men: Silas 
Payne, John Oliver, Anthony Hanson, William 
Humphries Thomas Lilliston, and a native. Silas 
Payne, belonged to Sag Harbour. The inhabi¬ 
tants of that place had been much annoyed by his 
bad courses, while he lived among them, and were 
very glad to git rid of him when he left home. 
He was a tall, stern, and reserved person, of some 
resolutions, and of a rebellious nature. John Oli¬ 
ver was a little contemptible looking fellow, coarse, 


76 


vulgar, and ignorant. He belonged to Shields, 
(England.) Anthony Hanson belonged to Barn¬ 
stable. William Humphries was a poor oppressed 
African. He acted in the capacity of steward. 
Thomas Lilliston belonged to Virginia. Having 
taken on board a supply of vegetables, and as much 
fruit as could be preserved, the Globe weighed 
anchor, and went to sea. She ran into south lati¬ 
tude and cruised awhile without much success. 
It is probable that our hero and the new hands 
took no great pains to see whales, having business 
of their own to think of, which they considered 
paramount to filling the ship with oil. In short, 
they were planning a bloody mutiny, “ a deed with¬ 
out a name,” without precedent, and against which 
the Captain and officers would have thought it 
madness to take precautions, as they would have 
doubted the sanity of a man who forewarned them 
of such an incredible event. For who would have 
believed that a young quaker scarcely twenty-one 
years of age, with the fairest prospects in life, re¬ 
spected by his Captain, and beloved by all his 
acquaintances, should concert with a band of out¬ 
lawed, ignorant, and depraved wretches to exter¬ 
minate four men who had never given him just 
cause of offence in their lives! The conspirators 
maintained the utmost secrecy—although our hero, 
it would appear, took a little pains to sound one of 
the crew, occasionally, in order to see how they 
were disposed towards the Captain and officers. 
Being at the mast head with William Lay, one 
morning, he said to him, “ Well, William, there is 
bad usage in the ship—what had we better do, 
run away, or take the ship?” Lay made an 
evasive answer, and endeavoured to acquaint the 



77 


second mate with what he had heard ; but found 
no opportunity. Although the crew of the Globe 
were generally, (perhaps every one) dissatisfied 
with the usage on board of her, we do not find 
that Samuel Comstock thought proper to ask the 
aid of any but Silas Payne, John Oliver, William 
Humphries, and Thomas Lilliston. His policy 
therein is very apparent. Most of the hands who 
had come out in the ship were never at sea before, 
and their minds were easily awed, and kept in 
subservience by their officers. They had friends 
and relatives at home whom they were anxious to 
see once more—and they could not be easily 
tempted to do an act which would cut them off 
forever from their native land, or restore them to 
it, only to grace a gibbet. On the other hand, the 
men whom Captain Worth picked up at the Sand¬ 
wich Islands were wanderers over the wide world, 
without an abiding place, without friends save such 
as the bottle generates, and probably cared not 
for kin or country—their hands against every man, 
and every man’s hands against them. 

Not finding whales plenty at the south, Captain 
Worth steered for Fanning’s Island, which lies in 
lat. 3. 49 N. and long. 158. 29 W. 

While cruising off this Island, the Ship Lyra 
was spoken, and the two Captains agreed to keep 
their ships together awhile. The reader may not 
be aware that it is a common practice, when two 
whale ships Fall in with each other at sea, for the 
Captains to agree to cruise in company—in which 
case the Captains visit each other’s ship alternate¬ 
ly—the mates sometimes partaking of the same 
privilege. On Sunday, the 26th of January, 1834, 
Captain Joy of the Lyra went on board the Globe, 


78 


and remained until dusk. On the morning of that 
day, Joseph Thomas, (one of the Globe’s crew,) 
offended Captain Worth, and the Captain whipped 
him with the end of the main bunt-line. The crew 
looked on with great indignation, while Thomas 
was receiving his flagellation, and one of the new 
hands was heard to say it would be “ the last time 
that Worth would flog one of the crew !” This 
was the right time for the mutineers to strike. The 
crew were incensed against the Captain and 
officers for this piece of high-handed tyranny— 
Our hero saw that the time was propitious, and 
and resolved to carry into effect his diabolical 
plans, on that very night. 

Late in the afternoon, a boat from the Lyra 
came to convey Captain Joy to his own ship. The 
Captain not being quite ready to go, the boat’s 
crew came on board of the Globe to wait for him. 
Our hero was setting on the deck, engaged in 
splicing the fore-sheet, while the Lyra’s men were 
gathered around him. Suddenly he looked up, 
and saw the sun just sinking below the horizon, 
said, “That sight reminds me of the saying of a 
Roman General on the eve of a battle—‘How 
many that watch that sun go down, will never see 
it rise again !’ ” Of course the listeners took no 
notice of this speech at the time. The sun went 
down; Captain Joy returned to his ship, and the 
night watch was set. 

On whaling ground there is generally but little 
sail standing during the night, and the crew is 
consequently divided into three watches. The 
Globe manned but three boats, and each watch 
consisted of a boat’s crew, with the boat-steerer in 
charge. Gilbert Smith had charge of the first 



79 


watch, on this night, with the starboard boat’s 
crew. Smith remained on deck until ten o’clock. 
At eight, the Captain came on deck, and had two 
reefs taken in the top-sails; and at nine, he went 
below again, leaving with Smith the orders for the 
night, to be transferred to the boat-steerers who 
succeeded him. Those orders were to keep the 
ship by the wind until two o’clock, and not to tack 
until the last or morning watch came up ; and, on 
tacking, to set a light as a signal for the Lyra to 
tack also, in order that the two ships might not 
part company in the dark. 

At ten o’clock Samuel Comstock came on deck, 
with the crew of the boat to which he belonged. 
Smith passed the orders to him, and went below. 
George Comstock took the helm. The night was 
quite dark, and a thick mist prevented his seeing 
objects distinctly. He heard persons in the waist, 
by the mainmast, whispering very fast and earnest¬ 
ly together, as if their interest was highly excited. 
He stretched out his head, and listened with all 
his might; but could understand nothing that was 
said. While thus engaged, he heard a voice at 
his elbow, and, turning his head, was surprised to 
see his brother Samuel standing at his side, of 
whose approach he had not been aware. “Keep 
the ship a good full”—said Samuel—“ Why do 
you have all the head sails shaking ?” 

George protested that the ship was already a 
whole point from the wind. 

“ Mind what I tell you”—said his brother, fierce¬ 
ly— an J putting up the helm until the ship had run 
off two points, ordered George to keep her so. 
The nautical reader will readily understand, that 
the object of our hero was, to increase the dis¬ 
tance between the two ships as much as possible. 


80 


Samuel then left his brother, and went forward. 
The whispering then continued, more earnestly 
than ever, and George was surprised by several 
more visits from his brother, as sudden and unex¬ 
pected as the first, in which he ordered him to 
keep the ship off from the wind, as he had done 
before. George’s heart misgave him. There was 
some mystery which he could not unravel. When 
his time at the helm was up, George took the 
rattle to warn his relief that his turn had come; 
but the moment he begun to make a noise with it, 
his brother came to him, and bade him to desist. 
George replied, “It is not my helm, and I want to 
be relieved.” 

“If you make the least damn bit of noise,” re¬ 
plied Samuel, “I will send you to hell!” Not 
liking the idea of transmigrating to such a warm 
climate, George became silent. 

Our hero then lighted a lamp and went down 
into the steerage. As soon as his brother was out 
of sight, George took up the rattle again ; but be¬ 
fore he could make any noise, Samuel stood before 
him, and threatened him with instant death, if he 
presumed to give any alarm. The little fellow was 
paralized by the dreadful imprecations of his 
brother, and made no farther attempt to sound the 
rattle. All was silence and darkness for some 
minutes, when our hero came up to the vice bench 
and laid something heavy upon it, George after¬ 
wards learned that it was a boarding-knife—a 
sharp two-edged instrument, about four feet long, 
and three inches wide, with a sharp point, used for 
cutting toggle holes in the blubber. 

George stood at the helm some time after this. 
Not a sound was heard—not a whisper. No human 


81 


being was in sight. At length he heard a heavy 
blow, as if with an axe in the cabin; and the next 
moment, the scream of mortal agony broke upon 
his ear; a short scuffle, a few blows, and all was 
again silent. In the mean time, Smith hearing 
the noise in the cabin, supposed the officers were 
quarrelling with each other, and went aft to see 
what was the matter. He looked down the cabin 
and beheld Comstock covered with blood ! Ex¬ 
pecting it would be his turn next, he ran forward 
where the crew were already alarmed, and asked 
them what he had better do. As soon as Smith 
had retreated, our hero made his appearance at 
the binnacle, where his petrified brother was still 
standing. George describes his appearance, at 
that moment, as horrific in the extreme. His face, 
arms, and breast were bloody—his eyes flaming 
with fury—and his shirt nearly torn from his back. 
George asked him if he intended to hurt Smith. He 
replied in the affirmative, and asked George if he 
had seen him. Fearing that Smith would be next 
attacked, George replied that he had not seen him, 
and did not know where he was. Perceiving that 
George was shedding tears, his brother asked 
sternly, 44 What are 3011 crying about?” 44 I am 
afraid they will hurt me,” answered the boy. 44 1 
will hurt you,” said the other, 44 if you talk in that 
manner.” 

Having lighted the lamp, which he held in his 
hand, Comstock returned to the cabin to continue 
the work of slaughter. But we will give the 
reader a history of all that transpired in the cabin 
previous to this time. 

The plan of attack was thus arranged by the 
mutineers. Samuel Comstock was to kill the Cap- 


82 


tain with a sharp broad-axe ; Silas Payne was to 
station himself by the side of the sleeping mate, 
with a boarding knife, the point of which was to 
be aimed at his heart; and the moment that Com¬ 
stock struck the Captain, Payne was to stab the 
mate. The state-room in which the second and 
third mates slept, was to be secured before the at¬ 
tack commenced, while Oliver and Lilliston were 
ordered to stand guard at the door, and kill the 
two prisoners if they broke out. William Hum¬ 
phries, (the black steward) was appointed to hold 
the lantern. These things being agreed upon, 
Samuel Comstock went into the cabin softly, to 
satisfy himself that the Captain was asleep. That 
being ascertained, he fastened the second and 
third mates into their state-room. The mutineers 
then descended into the cabin, armed to the teeth; 
all save Lilliston, who gave back; and returned to 
the forecastle, Payne pointed his boarding knife at 
the side of Mr. Beetle, while Comstock mounted 
the transum, and raising the axe until it touched 
the carline overhead, struck Such a blow upon the 
Captain’s head, as to sever it nearly in two. He 
repeated the blow, and then flew to the assistance 
of Payne, who had awoke the mate by an unsuc¬ 
cessful tnrust, having bent his boarding knife near¬ 
ly double against Mr. Beetle’s ribs. Being thus 
suddenly awakened, the mate exclained, “ What 1 
what! what is this? Oh! Payne! Ob! Comstock! 
Don t kill me—Don’t—have I not always—” 

“ Yes, you have always been a damned rascal,” 
interrupted Comstock, “You tell lies of me out of 
the ship, will you? It’s a damned good time to 
beg now, but you’re too late.” Here the mate 
sprang and grasped Comstock by the throat. A 


83 


scuffle ensued, during which the light w r as knocked 
out of the murderer’s hand, together with the axe* 
Mr. Beetle maintained a desperate hold on the 
throat of his antagonist—but the latter succeeded 
in letting Payne know that he wanted the hatchet. 
Payne felt about for it in the dark, until he found 
i it and put it into Comstock’s hand who struck Mr 
Beetle a blow on the head with it, which caused 
him to relinquish his grasp, and he fell head fore- 
i most into the pantry* The steward had by this 
time returned with a light, and the mate was des¬ 
patched by Comstock, Oliver putting in a blow as 
often as he could. The second and third mates 
were of course, awakened by the noise. They 
lay still in their births, listening, being ignorant of 
the number of the mutineers; but hoping their 
lives would be spared. 

The light having gone out again, Comstock went 
up to the binnacle to light it, as had been already 
described. 

When he descended again into the cabin, he 
loaded two muskets for the purpose of attacking 
Mr. Fisher and Mr. Lumbert. lie fired one of 
them through the state-room door, and called out 
to know if either of them was shot. Fisher re¬ 
plied, “Yes, you have shot me in the mouth.” 
Mr. Lumbert called out to Comstock and asked if 
he were going to kill him He answered care¬ 
lessly, “Oh, no, 1 guess not.” 

The mutineers then opened the door, and Corn- 
stock advanced on Lumbert with a charged bayo¬ 
net. Lumbert escaped the thrust, and the mur¬ 
derer fell upon the floor of the state-room. Mr. 
Lumbert collared him; but he broke from his 
hold, and before he could regain his feet, Mr. 




84 


Fisher presented the bayonet to his heart. Look 
ing sternly at Fisher, the mutineer said, “ Don’ 
you advance that one inch!” Fisher hesitated, an< 
Comstock sprang upon his feet. He then imme 
diately run Mr. Lumbert through the body severa 
times. Lumbert was all this time beggingfor hi: 
life, and said, “ Oh, Comstock! I’ve got a poor 
old father with six little children at home!” 

“ Damn you, so have I!” answered the heart 
less ruffian. 

Then turning to Mr. Fisher, Comstock said— 
“There is no hope for you. You recollect the 
scrape you got me into, when in company with the 
Enterprise of Nantucket.” Fisher entreated that 
his life might be spared.” 

“ It’s no use,” replied his relentless enemy, “ You 
have got to die, and you may as well die like a 
man.” 

“If their is no hope,” said Fisher, “I will die 
like a man,”—and turning his back, he said in a 
firm voice, “ I am ready!” 

Comstock put the muzzle of the gun to his head 
and fired. He died instantly. 

In answer to Mr. Lumbert’s entreaties for life, 
he then said, “I am a bloody man—I have a 
bloody hand, and will be avenged !” and again 
run him through the body with a bayonet. The 
dying man then begged for water. “I’ll give yoii 
water,” said he, and once more plunging the 
weapon in his body, left him for dead. 

In the mean time, Smith was consulting with’ 
the crew in the forecastle about what measures ffif 
had better take to preserve his life. Some urgec> 
him to secret himself in the hold, others advisee? 
him to go aloft until Comstock’s rage for carnage- 
































































































































■V 












7 
























- 
















- 













8 7 


should be abated—but, reflecting that such a course 
would only delay the stroke a short time, and that 
it was better to put an end to his agonizing sus¬ 
pense at once, he resolved to confront the ring¬ 
leader, and know the worst without delay. Com¬ 
stock’s voice was now heard calling for Smith to 
come forth. The latter hastened to meet him ; 
when throwing his bloody arms about his neck, and 
embracing him, the mutineer said, “You are going 
to be one of us, are you not ?” 

“Oh yes,”—answered Smith, being willing to 
humour his friendship, “ I will do any thing you 
wish me to.” 

The reader may be curious to know what 
enlisted the sympathies of the man of blood so 
much in favor of Smith; and I should be remiss 
in not informing him, as by so doing I shall develope 
a distinguished trait in my hero’s character. 
Smith was a religious young man and with all 
his faults, our hero entertained a high respect for 
sacred things, and a superstitious awe of pious 
persons. He told George that if he had killed 
Smith, God would have avenged his death, and 
that while Smith was with them, the Almighty 
would smile on their enterprise for his sake. It 
is surprising that nothing could shake his faith in 
Orthodoxy. I once labored hard to convince 
him that the doctrine of endless punishment was 
derogatory to the character of the Almighty. 
“ Don’t try to argue me out of a belief in hell!” 
cried he passionately, “I tell you there is such a 
place ; but that is not a going to frighten me. If 
1 go there, as very likely I shall, I will kick and 
squall and bear it as well as I can. But you can’t 
persuade me that there is no such place.” 


88 


To return—The slaughter having been con¬ 
cluded, Samuel Comstock ordered all hands on 
deck to make sail. The reefs were shaken out, 
and all sail set. A light was set for the Lyra to 
tack, while the Globe pursued her way, so that the 
two ships very soon separated. 

Our hero now delivered a short address to the 
crew, in which he told them that he was now Cap¬ 
tain of the ship, and they must obey him—that re¬ 
bellion would be punished with death, and that all 
disputes amongst the ship’s company must be 
settled according to the laws of honour, by duelling. 

The mutineers then threw the body of Captain 
Worth into the sea, after barbarously mangling the 
corpse. Mr. Beetle, the first mate still breathed, 
but he was thrown overboard. Orders were next 
given to have the bodies of Mr. Fisher and Mr. 
Lumbert brought up. A rope was fastened around 
Fisher’s neck, by which he was hauled upon deck. 
A rope was then made fast to Lumbert’s ankles, 
and, in that manner he was drawn up. When in 
the act of being throw overboard, he caught the 
plank-sheer with his hand, and appealed to Com¬ 
stock, reminding him of his promise to save his 
life; but in vain, the murderer compelled him*to 
let go his hold, and he fell into the sea. As he 
appeared to be able to swim, Comstock ordered a 
boat to be lowered, to pursue and finish him, lest 
he should be picked up by the Lyra. But, recol¬ 
lecting that the boat’s crew might escape to the 
Lyra, he immediately countermanded the order. 

The cabin was next cleaned out. It presented 
a hideous scene of blood and destruction Every 
thing bearing marks of the murder was taken on 
deck and washed. 











II 
























































































































































































































































91 


The hands were next employed in cleaning the 
small arms and making cartridge boxes. They 
were then instructed in the use of them, and 
trained regularly, every day. 

About three days after the mutiny, George Com¬ 
stock, who had been appointed steward, detected 
William Humphries (the negro) in loading a pistol. 
He immediately reported it to his brother, who 
asked Humphries what he meant by it. Hum¬ 
phries made some ambiguous answer; but being 
pressed to reveal the whole truth, at length said 
that Gilbert Smith, the boatsteerer whose life had 
been spared, and Peter Kidder were going to re¬ 
take the ship. Smith and Kidder were therefore 
summoned to trial. They and Humphries were 
seated on a chest, underguard of six men armed 
with muskets. The trial took place on the follow¬ 
ing morning. Two men were selected to act as 
jurymen, and instructed to bring in a verdict of 
guilty against Humphries. The culprit was 
sentenced to be hung on a studding-sail boom, 
rigged out eight feet on the fore-yard. His exe¬ 
cution immediately followed. His watch was taken 
from him, and he was seated upon the rail, with a 
cap drawn over his face, and the rope around his 
neck. 

Our hero compelled every man to take hold of 
the execution rope, to be ready to run him up, 
when the ships bell should be struck. Humphries 
was then asked if he had anything to say, as he 
had but fourteen seconds to live. He began by 
saying, “ When I was born, I did not think I should 
ever come to this.”—The bell struck and he was 
at the yard arm in an instant. He died without a 
struggle. After hanging a few minutes, the rope 


92 


was cut; but getting entangled aloft, the body was 
towed some distance along side, when a runner 
hook was attached to it, the rope cut, and the body 
sunk immediately. The chest of the deceased 
was then examined, and sixteen dollars in specie 
found therein, which he had stolen from the Cap¬ 
tain’s trunk. It will be recollected that Hum¬ 
phries was one of the mutineers. Although Sam¬ 
uel Comstock, at the trial, charged the prisoner 
with a design to shoot Payne and himself, it is not 
probable that he entertained a very strong belief 
of his guilt. He was much averse to having a 
black man on board—he always felt a strong dis¬ 
like to colored persons—and was therefore willing 
to lay hold of any pretence to set Humphries aside. 
Payne, (who was second in command) was proba¬ 
bly glad to have Humphries removed, as he shared 
the blood-stained laurels with himself. Oliver, 
who was invested with the title of second mate, 
was a very ignorant contemptible fellow, and when¬ 
ever the chief mutineer addressed him as Mr . Oli¬ 
ver, the crew turned aside to conceal their laugh¬ 
ter, which the pompous airs of the said Mr. Oliver 
greatly contributed to excite. It does not appear 
that our hero placed much confidence in this dig¬ 
nitary, for at night he and Payne slept and relieved 
each other alternately. 

The chief mutineer instituted public worship on 
board, and prayers were read for the eternal hap¬ 
piness of the murdered officers. Our hero ap¬ 
pointed his favourite, Smith, chaplain, who read 
his chapter and sung his hymn very much in the 
spirit of the captive Israelites, when they hung 
their harps upon the willows and grieved to sing 
the lord’s song in a strange land. 


93 


Our hero also made laws for the government of 
the ship’s company. Two of them read thus: — 

1. If any man sees a sail and does not report it 
immediately, he shall be bound hand and foot, and 
boiled in oil, in the try pots. 

2. If any man refuse to fight a ship, he shall be 
put to death in the same manner. 

Every man was compelled to sign this instru¬ 
ment. The seals of the mutineers were affixed 
to their names. Their seals were black. The 
others’ seals were blue and white. 

An altercation took place between two of the 
ship’s company, and our hero commanded that they 
should settle the dispute by an appeal to arms. 
The plan did not meet the approbation of the two 
individuals concerned, who would gladly have 
shaken hands, and made friends. But such was 
the regulation respecting all differences, and they 
were compelled to meet as duellists. The ship’s 
company were all summoned to witness the battle, 
and every preliminary adjusted which the laws of 
honour require, excepting one—our hero presided 
at the loading of the pistols, and privately ordered, 
that as bullets were valuable, they should not be 
wasted on such contemptible poltroons, as were 
about to amuse the spectators with their cowardice. 
Accordingly the pistols were charged with blank 
cartridges . The belligerents were ushered for¬ 
ward with great parade, and solemnly enjoined to 
repent of their sins, and make their peace with 
God, as one or both of them would soon be in His 
presence. The pallid heroes took the pistols, and 
stretched out their arms, but one of them trembled 
so violently that his pistol fell from his hand. It 
went off when it struck the deck. His terrified 


94 


/A 

adversary sprang about two feet into the air, and 
exclaimed that he was shot in the foot. His second 
received him in his arms, and the Chief Mutineer 
ordered his surgical instruments on deck. They 
were brought up, accordingly, and the fallen hero 
was laid on a blanket. His eyes were blindfolded 
that he might not faint at the sight of his own 
blood. The leg was stripped, and our hero made 
a sign to the bystanders to restrain their laughter 
when it was discovered to be wholly unscathed. 
The patient was, all this time, groaning piteously 
and talking of his poor mother. He was informed 
that the loss of his leg was inevitable, and our 
hero signified his intention of amputating it imme¬ 
diately. The patient sighed heavily at this intel¬ 
ligence, but meekly resigned himself to the discre¬ 
tion of the surgeon. 44 As wood is very scarce,” 
said our hero, “ I do not see how we can afford 
you a wooden leg. l^ou had better keep your 
present limb until we reach some Island where 
there is plenty of wood.” The patient was then 
ordered to rise, and the chief mutineer giving him 
a kick in the rear, said “ Now, go forward, and at¬ 
tend to your duty, and if I hear any more of your 
quarrelling I’ll shoot you both.” 

Our hero had made arrangements for all hands to 
eat with him, in the cabin; so that they had an 
opportunity of hearing the conversations of their 
new officers. Payne and Oliver complained every 
morning that they had been troubled with horrible 
dreams, during the night, and that the murdered 
officers had appeared to them. Our hero laughed 
at their terrors, and told them that the Captain 
had also appeared to him, and shook his gory locks 
and pointed at his bloody head— 44 but,” said Com. 


95 


stock, “ I told him to go away, and if ho ever ap¬ 
peared again, I would kill him a second time !” 

George relates that our hero was once sitting 
in the starboard boat, biting his thumb nails as ^ 
was his wont when his mind was actively employed, 
and seeing George looking at him with a sorrow¬ 
ful countenance, he called him. When George 
approached him, he said, “ I suppose you think I 
regret what 1 have done; but you are mistaken— 

I should like to do such a job every morning be¬ 
fore breakfast,” 

On February 7th, the ship made an island be¬ 
longing to the Kingsmill group. She stood in to¬ 
wards the land, and a number of natives came 
along side in canoes; but had nothing to sell ex¬ 
cepting a few beads of their own manufacture. 
Some cocoanut, and other trees were discovered 
upon the shore—also, a number of natives, and 
some dogs. The principal food of these Islanders 
is a kind of bread fruit, pounded fine and mixed 
with fish. 

On the next day, they to:>k a departure from 
Kingsmill Island, (one of the group of that name) 
in Lat. 1° 27' N. and Long. 175° 14' E. The 
Globe passed through the channel between Mar¬ 
shall’s and Gilbert’s Islands; then luffed to and 
sent a boat to Marshall’s Island. The boat did 
not land, as the natives appeared hostile, and some 
of them who swam off to her, tried to steal from 
their visitors. When the boat was about leaving, 
a volley of musketry was discharged at the natives, 
which killed or wounded some of them. A canoe 
was observed paddling along at some distance from 
the shore, with two natives in her. The boat gave 
them chase, and when she came within gun shot, 


96 


the whites fired at the men in the canoe. They 
immediately ceased paddling, and when the boat 
approached the canoe, it was discovered that one 
of the natives was wounded. In the most suppli¬ 
cating manner, they held up a jacket manufactured 
from a kind of flag, and some beads being all they 
possessed, giving their pursuers to understand that 
all should be theirs if they would spare their lives! 
The murderers themselves could not resist such a 
heart-touching appeal! Yet one of these poor un¬ 
offending children of nature had already fallen. 
He lay in the bottom of the boat, and from his 
convulsed frame and trembling lips, no doubt rest¬ 
ed on the minds of the boat’s crew that he was 
mortally wounded. This unprovoked murder dic¬ 
tated neither by revenge, cupidity, nor policy, 
proved that its perpetrators had reached that cli¬ 
max of depravity when they could do evil for evil’s 
sake. The omnipotent Jehovah looked down from 
his seraph girdled throne, and saw one of his un¬ 
sophisticated children slain for mere pastime, and 
that moment passed His decree that the instiga¬ 
tor of the foul deed should die by the same weapon 
with which he had slain his brother, and that the 
accessories should be cut off by the people whom 
they had wronged. The Destroying Angel bowed 
sternly as he received his orders, and posted down 
to Earth to bind the understandings and distract 
the counsels of those whom he was commissioned 
to destroy. 

After the murder, the boat returned to the ship, 
and Comstock made all sail for the Mulgrave 
Islands. 

On February 11th, at half past twelve, P. M. 
the land was in sight, bearing E. N. E. distant 


97 


four leagues. The ship stood in, and a number 
of canoes came along side. A boat was sent 
ashore, which brought off to the ship, a number of 
women, a large quantity of cocoanuts, and some 
fish. The ship stood off shore nearly all night. 
On the next morning, she stood in again, and sent 
the women ashore. The Globe then stood along 
shore, looking out for a good place to come to an 
anchor, while the mutineers were also desirous of 
seeing a spot suitable for cultivation ; but in this 
they were disappointed. 

At night, the ship stood off shore again. In the 
morning of February 13th, she stood in once more, 
and after coasting the shores of several small 
Islands, came to one, low and narrow, where it 
was determined the ship should be anchored. 
When nearly ready to drop the anchor, a man was 
sent in the chains to sound the depth of the water. 
He pronounced it twelve fathoms deep; but on 
heaving the sounding lead again, could get no 
bottom. The ship, therefore continued to stand 
in ; but did not get regular soundings until within 
five rods of the shore, when the anchor was let 
go, in seven fathoms water. The ship was then 
moored with a kedge astern, the sails were furled, 
and all hands retired to rest, excepting an anchor 
watch. 

The next day was spent in looking for a land¬ 
ing place. In the morning a boat was sent to the 
Eastward ; but returned with the information that 
no good landing place could be found, as the shore 
was very rocky. At two o’clock in the afternoon, 
she was sent in an opposite direction; but re¬ 
turned at night, without having met with any better 
success. It was then determined to land where 
the ship lay. i 


98 


Nothing of consequence was done until Sunday, 
15th February, 1824. On Sunday, in utter dis¬ 
regard of the presence of the Rev. Mr. Smith, all 
hands were set to work to construct a raft out of 
the spare spars, upon which to convey the provi¬ 
sions, &c., on shore. 

The raft being completed, it was anchored sd 
that one end rested upon the rocks, the other be¬ 
ing kept seaward by the anchor. Another raft 
was made, by laying spars upon two boats, and 
the spars covered by boards; which last raft would 
float well up on the shore, at high water. 

St was the intention of the mutineers to get every 
thing out of the ship, and then haul her up and 
burn her. They, accordingly commenced their 
plunder. The following articles were sent on 
shore:—One main*sail, one fore-sail, one mizzen- 
top-sail, one spanker, one driver, one main-top-gal- 
lant-sail, two lower-studding-sails, two royals, two 
top-mast-studding sails, one mizzen stay sail, two 
mizzen-top-gallant sails, one flying-gib, (thrown 
overboard, because a little torn,) three boat sails, 
three or four casks of bread, eight or ten barrels 
of flour, forty barrels of beef and pork, three casks 
of molasses, one and a half barrels of sugar, 
one barrel of dried apples, one cask of vinegar, 
two casks of rum, one or two barrels of domestic 
coffee, (fudge!) one keg of W. I. coffee, one and 
a half chests of tea, one barrel of pickles, one 
barrel of cranberries, one box of chocolate, one 
cask of tow-lines, three or more coils of cordage, 
one coil of rattling, one coil of lance warp, ten or 
fifteen balls of spun yarn, one ball of worming, one 
stream cable, one larboard bower anchor, all the 
spare spars, every chest of clothing, most of the 


99 


ship’s tools, and some other articles. The ship 
was, by this time, considerably unrigged. 

The reader will doubtless inquire what was the 
object of our hero, in killing the Captain and offi¬ 
cers of the Globe, and taking the ship to the Mul- 
grave Islands, to be there dismantled and des¬ 
troyed. In reply, I can only say, that it had long 
been a favourite scheme of his, to establish him¬ 
self on one of the Pacific Isles—to gain sufficient 
influence over the natives to induce them to elect 
him their king—and to live a daring and dreaded 
outlaw in his adopted clime. I have no doubt 
that he intended to gain the good will of the na¬ 
tives as fast as possible, to enlist them on his side, 
and render them obedient to his wishes—in 
which case, he could cut off his partners in guilt, 
and the ship’s company generally, at pleasure. 

On the other hand, it is very probable that the 
ignorance of his accomplices, gave him great in¬ 
fluence over them while at sea—he being an ex¬ 
cellent navigator, and the only one on board who 
possessed the knowledge requisite to carry the 
ship out of the way of those who might be dis¬ 
posed to put some questions which they would find 
difficulty in answering. But now having set their 
feet on terra firma, they conceived they stood in 
no farther need of his assistance. That part of 
the ship’s company which had taken no part in 
the mutiny, outnumbered them by a vast majority 
—and they were now secure from perils by sea— 
they no longer looked up to the man of blood for 
protection. Payne and Oliver felt that if an ap¬ 
peal to arms was made, the innocent would prove 
more than a match for the guilty; and they well 
knew that the innocent men who had been dragged 


100 


into exile by our hero, inwardly rebelled against 
the tyranny, the absolute control which he exer¬ 
cised over them. They knew that if they lifted 
their voices in opposition to the reign of terror, 
they would find a response in every breast. No 
doubt, the chief mutineer knew it too, and, there¬ 
fore, he made many presents to the natives of these 
islands in order to attach them to his person, and 
gain friends by kindness to defend him against 
those whom he had made enemies by cruelty. 

Payne was stationed on board the ship, where 
he attended to the delivering of the, articles which 
were conveyed on shore. Our hero spent the 
most of his time on the island, making presents to 
the natives, and, apparently, exercising an unboun¬ 
ded influence over them. Whether Payne sus¬ 
pected his real object or not, is uncertain; but he 
evidently disapproved of Comstock’s conduct. On 
Monday, February 16 th. he sent word to the chief 
mutineer, “ that if he did not act differently with 
regard to the plunder, such as making presents to 
the natives of the officers’ fine clothing, &c, he 
would do no more; but quit the ship, and go on 
shore.” 

At this symptom of rebellion our hero was much 
offended, and commanded Payne’s presence, im¬ 
mediately, on shore, and Comstock asked him 
what he meant by sending such a message to him. 
A dispute between Payne and Comstock followed, 
and the latter was heard to say, “ I helped take 
the ship, and have navigated her to this place. I 
have also done all I could to get the sails and rig¬ 
ging on shore, and now you may do what you 
please with her; but if any man wants anything 
of me, I’ll take a musket with him.” 




101 


u That is what I want,” replied Payne, “ and am 
ready.” By this prompt reply, our hero was con¬ 
vinced that his authority was nearly at an end 
This was a change in the tone of those under, his 
command, which distinctly showed that his enemies 
were consolidated. If Payne had not been sensi¬ 
ble that Comstock no longer possessed sufficient 
influence over the crew, to bring him to punish¬ 
ment, he would hardly have defied him thus. 
Should he fight with Payne and kill him, the num¬ 
ber of mutineers would be reduced to two, himself 
and Oliver. He resolved, therefore, to put his 
ultimate scheme in practice at once, and revenge 
not only on Payne, but on all those who were 
leagued with him— i. e. to cut oft' the whole of 
the ship’s company with the aid of the natives. 

He hastened on board the ship, and taking the 
paper which contained the Laws, chopped it into 
pieces with his sword. Thinking the hands on 
board appeared pleased by his desertion of them, 
he became enraged and challenged them to fight 
him. They said nothing, and sheathing his 
weapon, he went on shore, saying as he went 
away, “I am going to leave you—hook out for 
yourselves!” 

It was afterwards ascertained that the man of 
blood went and joined himself with a party of the 
natives with whom he plotted to destroy the Globe’s 
crew; but an event occurred which altered the 
face of things materially. 

Payne, who well knew the revengeful and re¬ 
morseless disposition of the leader, who had made 
him his tool and accomplice in a bloody mutiny, 
felt some misgivings when he saw him depart; 
and especially when about dusk, Comstock passed 


102 


the white men’s tent, accompanied by about fifty 
of the natives in the direction of their village, up¬ 
wards of a league distant. Payne went on board 
the ship,and expressed his apprehensions that Com¬ 
stock would instigate the natives to kill him and 
his companions, and endeavoured to persuade 
Smith to join him in shooting the object of his 
fears. Smith dared not interfere, and expressed 
his wish to maintain a strict neutrality. Payne 
then picked out a number of the crew to go on 
shore for the night, and stationed sentinels around 
the tent, with orders to shoot any one who should 
approach without giving the countersign. The 
night, however, passed without any one’s appear¬ 
ing. 

Early on the morning of the 17th of February, 
the chief mutineer was discovered at some dis¬ 
tance, coming towards the tent. Payne now called 
upon Oliver and several others, (with whose names 
we have not been made acquainted,) to go on 
shore and shoot Comstock as he approached the 
tent. After loading a number of muskets so as to 
leave no chance of Comstock’s getting within reach 
of them with his cutlass, the assassins hastened on 
shore, and stationed themselves in front of the 
tent—having taken the precaution to place them¬ 
selves behind a barricade. As soon as the man 
of blood came within gun-shot distance, they com¬ 
menced firing upon him—but he continued to ap¬ 
proach without altering his pace, and as if totally 
regardless of the bullets which whizzed by him. 
His eyes were cast upon the ground, and he seemed 
to be buried in deep thought. When he had ap¬ 
proached very near the assailants, he drew his 
sword, and seemed to meditate rushing suddenly 







THE DEATH OF SAMUEL COMSTOCK 


































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































105 


upon them, and selling his life at the highest cash 
price ; but seeing four muskets aimed at him, and 
knowing some of them must take effect immedi¬ 
ately, he cooly waved his hand, and told them not 
to fire, for he had not come to hurt them ; but the 
sight of his drawn cutlass was rather disagreeable 
to their feelings, and they fired again. Two balls 
took effect. One struck him on the upper lip and 
passed through his head ; the other entered his 
right breast, and passed out near the back bone. 
As soon as he had fallen, Payne ran to him with 
an axe, and buried it in his brains. 

All hands were now called to attend the funeral 
of their late commander. lie was sewed up in a 
piece of canvass. A grave was dug, by order of 
Payne, five feet deep. The body was then wrapped 
in the American flag, and lowered into the grave. 
His cutlass and every article of dress which he 
wore at the time of his death, was buried with 
him, excepting his watch. Muskets were fired 
over him, and Gilbert Smith read the fourteenth 
chapter of Isaiah, by order of Payne, who now 
assumed the command. When the grave was 
filled, the surviving mutineers required of every 
man that he should dance upon it, to show his ap¬ 
proval of Comstock’s murder, and his allegiance 
to the new authorities. They all complied except¬ 
ing George Comstock, whom neither threats of 
death, not promises of friendship could compel to 
make an exhibition of triumph at his brother’s 
death. It will be recollected that George was 
at this time but fifteen years of age. Samuel had 
been a sort of protector to him ; and indeed, the 
man who murdered the Captain and officers of 
the Globe was not an unnatural brother. If George 


106 


in common, with the rest of the ship’s company, 
had felt restive under the authority of his brother, 
he was much more dissatisfied with the govern¬ 
ment of the ignorant and barbarous wretches who 
succeeded him; and gladly did he unite with 
Smith in the romantic project of running away 
with the ship in the night, and escaping forever 
the fangs of Payne and Oliver. 

Payne and Oliver were far from feeling at ease, 
however, after they had taken the responsibility 
into their own hands. Ignorant of navigation, 
geography, and every other science, possessing no 
tact to secure the friendship of the natives, their 
condition was now truly deplorable. They bitter¬ 
ly repented the dark deed which had cut them off 
from the world forever. They would have given 
worlds to undo what they had done—to restore 
Captain Worth and his officers to life, and to be 
once more killing whales under their command in 
the broad Pacific. They felt that the mark of 
Cain was upon them. They knew not which way 
to turn. He who had amused them like an ignis 
fatuus , and led them into the dark abyss of des¬ 
truction, was gone. The eccentric light of his 
genius was extinguished. The magical charm in 
which he had bound their senses was broken. 
The false enthusiasm which he had kindled, had 
sunk with him in his grave, like a candle expiring 
in the socket. They saw that they were naked, 
and that there was no rest for their souls short of 
eternity. They had served the devil most faith¬ 
fully ; but where was their reward ? 

On the day that the chief mutineer was shot, 
no duty was done ; excepting that Payne selected 
six men to go on board the ship, and take charge 


107 


of her. These men were, Gilbert Smith, George 
Comstock, Stephen Kidder, Joseph Thomas, Peter 
C. Kidder, and Anthony Henson. 

This arrangement happened very opportunely 
to favour Smith’s scheme of restoring the Globe 
to her owners, and the innocent portion of the 
crew to their families and friends. Smith had 
spoken to all the hands whose consciences were 
not burthen by blood, and they had joyfully ac¬ 
ceded to his proposal, dangerous as the execution 
of it must necessarily be. Two boys, William 
Lay and Cyprus M. Hussey, had joined the con¬ 
spiracy; but as they were retained on shore by 
Payne, they agreed to swim off to the ship in the 
evening. 

The ship was not in good condition to go to sea. 
The seamen’s clothing was on shore. The rigging 
was in the utmost disorder, and much time was 
required to put it to rights. The two binnacle 
compasses were in the hands of Payne, and there 
was none on board excepting a hanging compass 
in the cabin. Smith contrived, however, to obtain 
one of the former, and leave the hanging com¬ 
pass in its stead. 

At 7 P. M. the hands on board the Globe be¬ 
gan to prepare for their enterprise. They placed 
a musket and some other weapons where they 
could be readily seized, in case the mutineers dis¬ 
covered their intentions, and undertook to board 
the ship. The running rigging was cleared, and 
the deck put in order. A handsaw was well 
greased, and laid on the windlass for the purpose 
of sawing off the cable. A hatchet was placed 
by the mizzen mast to cut the stern moorings 
when the ship’s head should have swung off from 


108 


the land. The sails were loosened in readiness to 
let fall when the word should be given. Just then 
the tell tale moon emerged from her watery bed, 
and the conspirators saw there was no time to be 
lost. The boys from the shore had not yet arrived, 
but it was necessary to leave them to their fate. 
At half past nine, George Comstock took the 
hand saw, and softly cut the cable asunder. A 
fine breeze was blowing off shore, and the ship 
payed off quick. The hawser was then cut—the 
sails were dropped, sheeted home, and hoisted. 
A raft, loaded with iron hoops, along side, was 
cut adrift, and the Globe bounded over the curl¬ 
ing billows as if she knew the avengers were at 
hand. After a long and boisterous passage, the 
Globe reached Valparaiso^ Smith knew that by 
steering East, he should strike the broadside of 
America, somewhere, and when he arrived on the 
coast, the Globe was picked up by a French ves¬ 
sel ; an officer was put on board of her, who 
took her safely into the harbour of Valparaiso. 
Michael Hogan, the U. S. Consul, took possession 
of her, and put the crew in irons. They were 
examined before that worshipful personage, and 
told a Cock and a bull story about Joseph Thomas 
—that he was insubordinate, and had dropped 
hints which led them to suspect he was somehow 
leagued with the mutineers. 

The Globe was then placed in charge of Cap¬ 
tain King, who navigated her to the Island of 
Nantucket, where she arrived on Sunday Novem¬ 
ber 21, 1824. Joseph Thomas was tried at the 
U. S. District Court, and acquitted. 



MASSACRE 


OF 

PAYNE, OLIVER, LILUSTON, BROWN, AND WORTH, 
BY THE NATIVES, 

AND THE 

RESCUE OF LAY AND HUSSEY, 

BY LIEUTENANT PERCIVAL, OF THE U. S. SCHOONER DOLPHIN. 


Although it falls not within the scope of this 
biography, yet as the reader may be desirous to 
know what became of the men left on the Mul- 
grave Islands, I shall subjoin a brief account of 
them. 

On the night of the 17th of February, (the day 
on which Comstock was shot,) a watch consisting 
of two men was appointed to guard against the 
natives. At about ten P. M. all hands were 
awakened by the cry, “ The ship has gone! The 
ship has gone!” Every one started from his pil¬ 
low, and hastened to the beach. The moon shone 
brightly upon the waters ; but no ship was in sight. 
Some who had not been initiated into Smith’s 
secret, were of opinion that the strong breeze 
then blowing, had driven her from her moorings ; 
but that she would be in sight again in the morn- 
j n <r. The morning came; but from horizon to 
luTrizon, nothing could be seen but the blue billows 
shaking their crested heads in the wind as if in 
derison of the distress which was pictured on 
every countenance. Payne flew into a violent pas¬ 
sion, and swore that if the runaways ever came 
into his power again, he would put them to instant 
death. The natives assembled in great numbers 

K 



110 


around the tent, and expressed great surprise at' 
the ship’s having left. Payne told them the wind 
had forced her to sea; but that being destitute of 
sails and rigging, she would be lost, and never 
return. The natives seemed satisfied ; but it was 
evident that Payne apprehended her safe arrival 
at some port, and his consequent capture and 
punishment. He immediately set the crew to 
work at tearing one boat to pieces, for the purpose 
of raising the sides of another, which was to have 
a deck. The natives continued to be very friend¬ 
ly, until Payne exasperated them by beating and 
otherwise abusing one of their women whom he 
had taken to wife. 

The natives commenced hostilities, by breaking 
open the tool chest, and stealing some articles 
there-from, in the night. Payne swore revenge, 
and threatened the natives with punishment if the 
stolen goods were not returned. Towards night, 
a native came running with half of a chisel, it 
having been broken in two. Payne repaid his 
kindness by clapping him in irons. The poor In¬ 
dian seemed much chagrined by his confinement; 
but his companions evinced no dissatisfaction. 

In the morning, Payne selected four men, each 
of whom he armed with a musket, some powder 
and fine shot; declining to give them balls, say¬ 
ing, the report of their pieces alone, would be 
sufficient to intimidate the natives. The prisoner 
was placed in charge of these men, who had or¬ 
ders to go to the village, and recover the hatchet, 
and bring back the person, whom the prisoner 
might point out as the thief. 

They succeeded in getting the hatchet; but 
when about to return, the natives, in a great body 


Ill 


attacked them with stones. Finding that they re¬ 
treated, the natives pursued them, and having 
oyer taken one of them, (Rowland Jones,) killed 
him on the spot. The remainder, although bruised 
with the stones which these Islanders had thrown 
with great precision, arrived at the tent with the 
alarming intelligence of a difficulty—while the 
natives followed in the rear, armed for war. 

Payne’s little band lost no time in arming them¬ 
selves, while the natives collected from all quarters, 
and, at a short distance from the tent—seemed to 
hold a kind of council. After deliberating some 
time they began to tear to pieces one of the boats. 
These were of vital importance to Payne, and he 
ventured to go to them for the purpose of making 
peace. One of the chiefs sat down upon the 
ground with him, and after they had set a few 
moments, Payne accompanied the chief into the 
midst of the natives. In the course of an hour he 
succeeded in making peace, on condition that 
every article belonging to the whites should be 
surrendered up to them. He announced the re¬ 
sult of his conference to his companions, and said 
he had assured them of his willingness to live 
with them, and be governed by their laws. 

The natives then began to help themselves very 
unceremoniously, to whatever articles suited them; 
and when some of them began to pull down the 
tent, an old man and woman seized William Lay, 
and preserved him from injury. Cyprus M. Hus¬ 
sey was saved in a manner somewhat similar. 

Whether Payne and his associates resisted the 
natives, when they commenced destroying the tent, 
or not, is unknown ; but suddenly the Indians at¬ 
tacked the whites, with whoop and yell, and com- 


12 


menced a general massacre. The whites fled in 
all directions; but a foe met them at every turn. 
Lilliston and Joe Brown, (the Sandwich Islander,) 
fell within six feet of William Lay, and, when 
down, the natives macerated their heads with large 
stones. The first man killed was Columbus Worth. 
An old woman apparently sixty years of age, ran 
him through with a spear, and finished him with 
stones. The two survivors did not see Payne 
killed; but on the following day they visited the 
scene of destruction, and from the appearance of 
things about the spot where he lay, they could not 
doubt that he had defended himself with despe¬ 
rate bravery. 

We cannot but regret that Payne and his com¬ 
panions had not been warned of the designs of 
the natives in time to give them a dose of Yankee 
lead and steel. It would be a comfort to us to 
know that some fifty or sixty of the yellow skins 
had accompanied our countrymen over the river 
Styx; but Payne’s course with the Islanders was 
ill-advised from the first. There are but two ways 
to deal with savages. You must either treat them 
with kindness and consideration, or with a show 
of haughty defiance. They know nothing of that 
chivalrous delicacy which scorns to press a yield¬ 
ing foe. While you waver, they decide; and if 
you fly, they will pursue. 

William Lay, and Cyprus M. Hussey, the only 
survivors of the massacre, obtained leave of the 
natives to bury their dead shipmates. They dug 
graves in the sand, and interred the bodies as de¬ 
cently as circumstances permitted. It is not a 
little to the credit of these young men, that while 
labouring under the most agonizing apprehensions 


113 


for their own safety, they should be mindful of 
the sacred duty which they owed to the dead. 

Lay and Hussey were separated and placed in 
the hands of different masters. They lived a 
number of miles asunder ; but occasionally enjoyed 
the privilege of meeting. More than once, dur¬ 
ing their painful residence with the natives, the 
chiefs held a consultation, and were nearly unani¬ 
mous in putting them to death. They knew not 
when they saw the sun rise in the morning, that 
they should live to see it set at night. The super¬ 
stitious natives were continually hatching up some 
foolish pretence for killing them, by which means 
the poor youths were forever harrassed by the ex¬ 
pectation of sudden death. Their masters, how¬ 
ever^ seemed disposed to protect and befriend them. 

Once, while prisoners on the Mulgraves, the 
two young men w r ere subjected to a grievous dis¬ 
appointment. A ship was seen in the offing stand¬ 
ing in for the Islands and their hearts throbbed 
with the most sanguine expectations of a release. 
The natives seemed much alarmed, and filled the 
air with their yells—but on the next morning the 
ship had disappeared, and they saw her no more. 

Government, in the mean time, had ordered the 
U. S. Schooner Dolphin (Lieut. Percival, com¬ 
mander,) to repair to the Mulgraves, and bring ofl 
the survivors of the Globe’s crew. The Dolphin 
arrived at the place of destination, and anchored 
at the Island, December 23d, 1825. The natives 
signified their apprehensions by hooting and yell¬ 
ing. They immediately resolved to swim on board 
of her, to the number of two hundred, and then, 
at a given signal, throw the crew overboard and 
kill them. We opine that “Mad Jack” would have 
had two words to say to that bargain, if they had 



114 


attempted it. Two large canoes which would 
carry fifty men each, were put in readiness, and 
William Lay offered to accompany the assailants, 
and help them fight ; but the natives at first re¬ 
fused, fearing that he would inform of their having 
killed Payne and his associates. He assured them 
that the vessel having hut two masts, did not be¬ 
long to his nation, and he was certain he could not 
speak their language. The natives at length mus¬ 
tered two hundred men, but seeing a boat from the 
Schooner, boldly approaching the shore, they re¬ 
treated and carried William Lay with them to a 
remote part of the Island, a distance of about 
forty miles. 

Early in the morning of the 29th, they discover¬ 
ed a boat under sail, standing directly for the 
place where they were. The natives were con¬ 
siderably agitated with fear, and agreed to kill the 
people in the boat, if they came where they were. 
Lay thought best to offer his services to assist 
them. He said he would go to the white men, 
when they landed, and persuade them to come on 
shore and sit down, when the natives could take 
possession of their weapons, and kill them. 

The natives at length agreed to his proposal. 
The boat anchored near the place where they 
were, and Lay stepped forward and hailed her. 
He told the men in the boat that the natives had 
resolved to kill them as soon as they landed, and 
that they had better not land, unless they were 
well armed. Lieutenant Hiram Paulding, who 
commanded the boat, immediately replied, “Ay, 
ay, I will be amongst them directly.” At the first 
sight of Lay, Lieutenant Paulding could not avoid 
taking him for a native, as his long hair was tied 
on the top of his head, his skin blackened by the 


115 


sun, and his dress similar to that of the Islanders. 
What was his surprise then to hear this man ad¬ 
dress him in English, and warn him against the 
natives! but the Lieutenant was by no means cer¬ 
tain that this man was not Payne or Oliver, as, of 
course, he could have known nothing of the mas¬ 
sacre. Nevertheless, with that promptness that 
characterises the gallant officers of our navy, he 
pushed his boat, at once, into the breakers, and 
sprang upon the beach, followed by his boat’s crew 
—making in all thirteen men and two officers. 
Lay ran to Lieutenant Paulding, who grasped his 
hand, and asked him his name. Poor Lay was 
so overwhelmed by his sudden deliverance that he 
could scarcely speak intelligibly; but ran on with a 
parcel of gibberish, partly English and partly the 
language of the Island. Lay’s Indian master ran 
down to the beach, and caught hold of Lay to 
force him back; but Mr. Paulding contrasted the 
colour of a pistol barrel with his yellow hide, and 
he desisted. Lay was conveyed to the Dolphin, 
and, after two long years of almost hopeless bon¬ 
dage, saw the stars and stripes of his country 
waving over his head. Hussey was shortly after 
released, and joined his friend on board the Schoo¬ 
ner. After a stay of several days at the Islands, 
during which Captain Percival constantly visited 
the natives, and instructed the Chiefs in their duty 
to white men, the Dolphin prepared to leave the 
Mulgraves. Samuel Comstock’s grave was opened 
and his skull and cutlass taken on board the 
Schooner. They have since been deposited in 
one of the Museums in New York City. Lay and 
Hussey arrived in the United States, on the 22d 
of April, 1827. 


TIIE END. 


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